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A/N: Is this the promised end? It seems so! What can I say except, it’s been emotional.
By the way, if you thought the last chapter was long, you’re gonna need stamina for this one! I think this might just be the longest chapter in the history of long chapters...
I thought it only polite I should offer my apologies that I will not be able to attend your banquet after all…
The hushed tones of Thebes’ most talked-about figure drifted up from the courtyard below, filtering through the reed shutters and floating down to them with the golden dust motes that danced lazily in the late afternoon sun. The hetemw netjer was almost as recognisable by his suave manner as by his shaven head and priest’s robe, but the words that followed confirmed his identity beyond all doubt.
In my capacity as Seal Bearer of Osiris, I also preside over funerals…
It could be no one else. The man Aneksi pined for, who had turned her head and broken her heart when she was still only a girl, was none other than Imhotep. Imhotep, sacred servant of Amun, member of the Theban high synod, second in line to become high priest. The man who had famously sworn an oath of celibacy to keep his body pure for the god.
Teti’s head was spinning.
“He came,” Aneksi was saying, staring past the window dreamily. “Even with everything he must have to deal with at the moment, he still came to deliver his apologies in person. He always was so thoughtful and polite…”
Her reactions still disordered by shock, Teti hardly knew what to say. Imhotep…? Aneksi and Imhotep? She couldn’t get her head round it.
“But it does seem rather overly polite,” Aneksi went on. “Given the circumstances, most people would just have sent a messenger. There must be some other reason for his visit…” Suddenly her face brightened, and she turned her grey eyes on Teti with a look of tentative hope. “Do you think he knows I’m here? Maybe that’s why he accepted the invitation in the first place…?”
Teti was aware of two conversations going on around her; the half-heard one still in progress outside, and the one taking place just beside her ear, but in striving to hear both she could concentrate on neither. Aneksi did not seem to require her participation anyway, continuing without waiting for an answer.
“What if he came just on the off chance of seeing me?” she mused, pausing in thought for a moment, before seeming to resolve upon some sort of decision. “I’ll go to the shrine in the courtyard, like you suggested. He’ll definitely see me then.”
Teti managed to gather her wits just in time to grab Aneksi’s arm and stop her.
“Aneksi, what are you thinking?” she hissed, pulling her back to her side at the window. “Your brains have been addled – do you know who that man is?”
“Of course I do!” Aneksi retorted indignantly as she tried to shake her off.
Teti tightened her grip and added another restraining hand to Aneksi’s shoulder, accidentally catching several of her golden hairs. Aneksi tore them out of her head in her effort to get free.
“Teti, let me go!”
“Aneksi think!” Teti cried, digging her fingers into the girl’s arms so hard that her pale flesh turned even whiter. “If you go down there in this state and make a scene, Kiya will have you flayed alive! What purpose would you serve by seeing him? You are not being rational!”
“Am I the only one not allowed to be irrational?” Aneksi shot back, although she had all but ceased her struggles. “It seems everyone else here completely loses her head whenever a man is involved.”
“Then think of this,” Teti said more gently, releasing her grip to brush the tangled blonde hair out of Aneksi’s eyes. “You look an absolute fright. Do you really want this to be the way he sees you again after so long?”
Aneksi looked suddenly more distressed by that thought than any other, and gave a horrified gasp as she caught sight of herself in the polished copper mirror behind Teti. Her face was flushed beneath the glistening gold paint and striped black from her tears, her eyes were bloodshot and dark-circled, and her hair was a haystack.
“I look like a fiend,” she said wretchedly.
Teti had to suppress a little laugh at Aneksi’s distress over such a trivial matter, but she managed to disguise it as a sympathetic smile as she steered her away from the window, through which thankfully she could no longer hear voices.
“Come on, let me make you beautiful again.”
Thebes was on fire. The torch of panic, ignited by rumour, had inflamed the city to a religious fervour seemingly without restraint. Driving through the forum, Djehuty’s way was constantly impeded by throngs of citizens, heading not towards the taverns and brothel houses, but to the many temples and shrines of Egypt’s deities. The gods were angry, and their fearful suppliants were flooding out into the streets to bring them offerings of bread and fruit, wine, beer and perfumed unguents, even live geese and oxen, all of which contributed to the sense of chaos. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and ordure, only thinly veiled by the clouds of incense and myrrh that hung over the city like a pall.
The narrow streets leading away from the forum, towards the north and south gates, were even more choked, this time with carts and wagons of unsold goods as merchants packed up their wares and left the city, while droves of peasants made their way back to the villages on foot. Djehuty was not much appeased to see that this mass exodus was mostly orderly, thanks to the capable marshalling of his Medjai. Despite the crushing blow of their chief's death, still they maintained their discipline and composure as they went about their duty. That is, until they recognised the huge black horses and gilded chariot of their chief driving by.
Djehuty did not pause to acknowledge the astonished faces and muttered oaths that marked his passage, his expression remaining hard as he drove on. His mood had been the same angry red as the sky when he set out for his destination, and it darkened further as the shadows of dusk gathered over the city.
“The two of you had an affair while you were at the palace?” Teti gasped as she stopped the brush mid-stroke, stunned.
“It wasn’t like that!” Aneksi said defensively. “We were friends.”
“Aneksi, the pharaoh’s mistress and the Seal Bearer of Osiris do not just become friends!” Teti pointed out in exasperation. “Any relationship between you would have been high treason and sacrilege!”
“But I never was the pharaoh’s mistress,” Aneksi protested, trying to lessen her crime in Teti’s eyes. “The head of the harem puts every girl through months of rigorous training before presenting her to the pharaoh, and I never got that far. Anyway, Imhotep wasn’t hetemw netjer back then – he was just a wab priest when I met him.”
“How did the two of you ever meet in the first place?” Teti asked as she came to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of her, the brush forgotten in her lap now that Aneksi had her full attention. “I thought the harem was strictly guarded, with no men allowed inside?”
“One of Imhotep’s duties was to tend the palace shrines, collecting the offerings and taking them to the temple,” Aneksi explained patiently. “That included the one to Hathor in the foyer outside the harem. As the newest trainee, it was my job to lay our offerings on it, so every morning I would take flowers and honey and cosmetics to lay at the feet of her statue, and every evening Imhotep would come to collect them. Our paths never crossed.”
Teti looked up into Aneksi’s now clean and naked face, absolutely enrapt as the details of her previously mysterious past began to unfold.
“Then one morning I found a beautiful jade necklace that I certainly hadn’t put there the day before. I knew I should have left it there, but it was so pretty… I took it.”
Teti’s eyes flashed as she sat up with shock. She knew Aneksi had always been a magpie for shiny objects, but she never thought she would stoop so low as to steal from a sacred shrine.
“Aneksi, taking from the goddess is a sin!”
“But that’s just it – it wasn’t left for the goddess,” Aneksi reasoned. “Over the next few weeks other things were left where I would find them; a box of sweets, some naughty pictures, bread baked into the shape of a phallus – I took a bite out of that one and left it where it was,” she remembered with amusement. “The next day I found a clay model of a man and a woman joined in a very unusual position.”
Teti’s eyebrow crept up at that, tugging the corner of her mouth into a lopsided smirk. She knew that Aneksi’s obsession with the more athletic aspects of the courtesan’s art had to have originated somewhere.
“One evening I decided to see who was doing it. I told the head of the harem that I needed to sleep in the shrine to interpret a particular dream I’d been having, and as the dream concerned her, she consented. I hid in the niche behind the goddess’s statue, and waited.”
“And what happened?” Teti whispered, mindful of the loud voices emanating from the next chamber as the girls changed out of their costumes. Soon they would come into the bathroom to take off their make up. “Did Imhotep turn up?”
“Oh yes,” Aneksi said with a rueful grin, “and was he ever surprised to see me! It turned out that the gifts were intended for someone else! He had caught a glimpse of Aerope, the famed Phoenician beauty, wearing a similar jade necklace to the one he’d left, and thought he had been flirting with her! We had such a laugh about that…”
“Come on Aneksi, come to the part where he gets you thrown out of the palace!” Teti urged her impatiently, and Aneksi’s fond smile of reminiscence was replaced by a more serious look.
“Well, like I said we became friends. We started regularly meeting by the shrine, just to talk – I’d never met anyone as clever as Imhotep, and his conversation certainly made a welcome change from the idle chatter of the harem girls. He also had a very dry, wicked sense of humour, so you can imagine how well we got on.”
Teti’s smirk made a brief reappearance, but then it melted into a smile of sympathy. She knew exactly what Aneksi meant. The two of them had connected on a spiritual and intellectual level, which went far beyond physical attraction. Much like Teti had with Dhuha.
“A soul mate is a rare thing to find,” she nodded gently in understanding.
Aneksi blushed, something she had never been prone to before, but seemed to be doing more and more these days. On her fresh and unadorned face, it made her resemble the young and innocent girl she must once have been.
“I had some foolish notion that we had been brought together by Hathor, but it seems the goddess was just playing a game with me. Our secret rendezvous carried on for nearly two months, until there was a new addition to the harem, and she took over my duties at the shrine.” Aneksi smiled, but Teti knew that there was real pain beneath it. “Before long, Imhotep was leaving lewd gifts for her instead.”
“Oh, Aneksi…” Despite intending to show her disapproval, Teti’s first instinct was to feel pity at Aneksi’s tale of naive love. Obviously the young priest had not been looking for a soul mate, and had swiftly moved on to someone else to get what he wanted. “That still doesn’t explain why you were thrown out though.”
“Haven’t you guessed it?” Aneksi asked, a note of bitterness entering her tone. “The new harem girl – I was the only one who could rumble her visits with Imhotep, so she had to get rid of me.”
“What did she do?” Teti asked gently, forgiving Aneksi’s sharpness; she knew it was not directed at her. For so long Aneksi had kept all this pain and resentment locked away in her heart, and now she needed to let it out before it festered beyond the power of healing.
“Oh it was masterful, so simple but so effective, and about as vindictive as you can get.” Aneksi’s words spilled faster as she began to experience the blessed sense of release it brought, like the lancing of a wound. “She sent me a message claiming to be from Imhotep. It said he missed me and that he realised his mistake in succumbing to the superficial charms of such a devious little vixen as Titikara.”
“And you believed that?”
Aneksi nodded ruefully, embarrassed to admit what a fool she had been.
“It’s amazing how easily you can be taken in by words that coincide so nicely with your own views. I thought Imhotep had discovered what she was really like after all, but the bitch knew exactly how I felt about her and was just playing on it. Of course I was only too ready to believe the rest after that.”
Teti’s curiosity about the girl she had lived with for over six years only increased with every word of her story; finally she was discovering the cause of much of Aneksi’s cynicism and distrust. Now she wanted to know everything.
“What was the rest?”
As Djehuty rode towards it, he could see armed shadows moving about on the crenelated rooftop, silhouetted against the blood-soaked sky. There were always at least two bowmen posted to guard over the prison wing. Known as The Place of Examination, this prison had a fearsome reputation. It was rumoured that the square tower at its end was padded with sheep’s fleeces to muffle the screams, and was accessed only via a secret underground passageway to prevent anyone seeing who went in – and more to the point did not come out. The entire courtyard was protected by a stone wall over fifteen feet high and surmounted with sharpened stakes – impaled on top of which were the heads of traitors and murderers, so that the courtyard was often darkened by the circling black canopy of carrion birds that came to feast on the decaying flesh.
A squawking thrash of black wings greeted Djehuty as he rode through the bronze-hinged gates, and a vulture loped out of his path with its gore-streaked skull bobbing. Pulling up the horses savagely, Djehuty threw the reins at the attendant who rushed to meet him, and dismounted from the footplate. Immediately the courtyard echoed with the thud of sandals striking the packed earth in unison, as the assembled Medjai stood to attention. At the head of the column, Paneb turned to acknowledge his chief with the Medjai salute.
“The Horus Guard is yours, Lord Ahmose,” he said with formal ceremony, head bowed and fist clasped to his tattooed chest.
Djehuty did not even spare a glance at him, nor the two-dozen-strong elite Medjai guard awaiting his command. His hard stare was fixed on the entrance to the barracks as he strode purposely towards it.
“Paneb!” The name was barked as a command to attention, and Paneb snapped to it like he had been poked with a spear. “My office. Now.”
Paneb obeyed immediately. Ordering the men at ease, he left them in the command of their watch captain, and turned to follow his chief. Behind him, Ra’s blood was slowly draining from the horizon, and in the tortured light of the god’s death throes the prison looked even more threatening than a sinking feeling, Paneb entered its dark stone bowels.
“The message said that he was in love with me, and wanted us to run away together," she said, looking down as she awkwardly began to pick at the hem of her costume. "He said he knew a wine merchant, and could get us passage on one of his cargo barges as far as Memphis. He said there was one sailing at dawn in three days time, and if I could get to the south corner of the garden – there is a pomegranate tree that grows close to the wall there – when the palace guard changed that night, he would meet me on the other side.” As she looked up again, the dying light falling onto Aneksi’s face accentuated the hollows under her eyes. “I was so nervous and excited I hardly slept a wink until then, and I completely fluffed all my training exercises. When the night came round, I was waiting for him ”
“Oh Amun…” Teti groaned. The punishment for a runaway slave was death by flogging. Aneksi really had risked her life to be with him. “And did he turn up?”
“Of course he didn’t!” Aneksi snapped, looking more embarrassed than annoyed. “But I’ll tell you who did – three of the palace guard. Titikara had set the whole thing up, and must have somehow tipped them off to be on the lookout for an escape attempt. They caught me halfway up the tree with my skirts around my waist, unable to get down.”
Teti gasped in horror, despite the amusing picture it made. There was nothing amusing about the consequences of Aneksi being discovered trying to escape from the palace.
“How by all the gods did you manage to keep your life?”
“I used my negotiation skills, what do you think?” Aneksi retorted, her voice thick with bitter sarcasm. “I did what any self respecting whore would do – I bought their silence.”
Teti’s jaw dropped in utter shock and disbelief. Was there nothing this girl could not purchase with her body? No wonder she seemed to regard herself as currency.
“Right there in the palace gardens?” she asked incredulously.
An ironic little smile accompanied Aneksi’s snort of self-loathing.
“Behind a topiary bush shaped like an elephant. They promised me that if I gave them what they wanted, they’d let me go. Do you know, that was my first time – I told you I never made it to the pharaoh’s bed. All that training came in handy for something though. What a star pupil, eh? Never had a man before and suddenly I take on three soldiers at once.”
“Oh Aneksi…” Teti whispered, tears of pity welling in her eyes. “You cannot blame yourself for the things you were forced to do to survive. No one wants to die. But surely they did not let you go back to the palace after that?”
Aneksi chuckled bitterly again.
“No, that was never in their plan. But nor was what happened next. All that grunting had woken the birds in the aviary, and their twittering prompted the commander of the guard to come and investigate what had disturbed them. It must have been a very surprising sight we made behind that elephant, because he stood there with his mouth hanging open for long enough. I don’t think he knew where to look, and for a moment I even thought he wanted to join in!”
Momentarily forgetting sympathy and compassion in her enthusiasm for a juicy bit of scandal, Teti was eager to know what had happened next.
“What did he do?”
Within this flickering spotlight was a plain high-backed chair with a low stool opposite, and acting as a barrier between them was the huge slab of black granite that served as Djehuty’s desk. This sinister object looked more like a sacrificial altar than a desk, with its shallow drainage channel and sacred carvings running around the edge. No one actually knew its original purpose, as it had been there as long as the building itself, and for this reason it was reverently referred to as ‘The Altar of Seth’.
When Paneb entered the room, his chief was standing behind the imposing black altar, his arms folded across his chest and his jaw set rigid. His eyes fixed on Paneb’s the moment he walked through the door.
“I have just returned from the palace.” His voice was like the distant rumblings of thunder over the desert before the towering yellow clouds tumble down over the Theban hills and the sand lashes the shutters. Then the storm broke as suddenly he leaned forward and thumped both palms down on the polished stone with a sound like the heavens cracking. “Because of your insubordination, the incident at the festival is being investigated by the Tjaty, and my conduct is now under official review!”
Paneb was taken aback. He had expected an investigation – the death of a high ranking Medjai was always investigated by the highest civil authority outside the Medjai brotherhood, which was nominally the pharaoh, but usually the Tjaty acting in his name. But why was Ahmose’s conduct under review? And more to the point, how was this all somehow his fault?
“You disobeyed a direct order!” Djehuty answered the question in his eyes. “I told you to get those men out of the water, but instead you stood there on the bank watching like some half-witted bystander while Amunakht drowned!”
Paneb shouldn’t have risen to such obvious bait, as they both knew that was untrue, but he had to refute the accusation of doing nothing to try and save his brother-in-law’s life.
“I dived in after him myself!”
“You could have saved them both had you organised a proper rescue effort instead of playing at heroics!”
Paneb winced with guilt. That stung, as he knew it was true, although not for the reason Ahmose supposed.
“I did not want to act hastily, considering the threat was still unknown at the time.”
“That is not good enough!” Djehuty slammed the heel of his fist onto the desk with frustration. “You command half the Theban Guard for Amun’s sake, you should be able to read and react to any situation that arises, not just let it unfold around you while you stand there soiling your kilt like some week-old recruit!”
Paneb coloured with embarrassment. Another cutting wound to his pride, and coming from Ahmose he felt it all the more keenly. But it had always been the case with him that when wounded and vulnerable, he was at his most dangerous. His response was defensive but forceful.
“It was precisely my desire to assess the situation rationally that made me –”
“Fuck rational assessment!” Djehuty exploded.
Paneb flinched involuntarily, and his belly turned to water. Ahmose never used such language, which only went to show how utterly beside himself with fury he was.
“In situations like today gut instinct and sheer nerve are what’s needed! If your actions should later prove to have been in error then at least lessons can be learnt from them – to do nothing is the only certain route to failure!”
“With all respect, sir –”
“I was not finished!” Djehuty needed little further incitement to anger, and his deputy’s attitude was doing nothing to appease him. “Besides, that phrase always precedes some gross act of disrespect, which would be very unwise right now so just shut up and listen.”
Paneb shut his mouth with an audible click that hurt his teeth. Although he had been witness to brother-in-law’s intimidation routine many times before, he had never been on the receiving end of it. Now he felt its devastating effectiveness first hand as Djehuty walked around the desk towards him. Paneb was a well-built man, but his chief easily overshadowed him in height and breadth of shoulder, and that fierce stare could burn holes in solid granite.
“You are about five minutes away from a court martial, so unless you come up with some pretty convincing explanation as to why you decided to ignore my orders, you’ll be embarking on a new career in the limestone quarries.”
“I didn’t want to risk the men –”
“The men are there to be risked!”
Paneb flinched again as Ahmose’s hands flew wildly in gesticulation, crimson creeping up his neck as his anger raged more dangerously by the minute. The vein in his forehead looked fit to burst.
“When Seti leads his army into battle against the Hittites, he does not whine about the risk to his men! You measure the risk against the reward, and Amunakht was worth twenty of my best troops!”
Paneb could see that Ahmose was becoming more impassioned and less rational by the moment, allowing his personal feelings for Amunakht to cloud his professional judgement. A diplomatic hint to that effect might have calmed him down, but Paneb’s own temper was finally roused, and he did not feel like being particularly diplomatic just then.
“Now you’re talking like a woman,” he sneered scornfully, and as it would turn out, unwisely, “thinking with your heart instead of your head, putting love before duty. Amunakht would have had nothing but contempt for you!”
Suddenly Paneb felt his jaw explode with pain and his head filled with white light as it reeled back behind the force of Ahmose’s fist.
“Just like that?” Teti snapped her fingers with a look of disbelief. It seemed incredible that such a thing could be hushed up. “How?”
“Well, he had the guards court-martialled for lesser offences and transferred to less high profile posts – right now they’re probably doing guard duty at Ahm Hamra prison.”
Like every man, woman and child in Egypt, Teti had heard of this notorious place. The Valley of Exiles was not a prison of walls, like the one in Thebes, but a prison of sand and dust. The oasis contained sufficient water to sustain its colony of prisoners and guards, but outside the valley there were no wells within a week’s travel. To chance escape across the wastelands of Seth was to seek one’s own death. Still, many prisoners chose that over a life sentence mining the limestone of that blistering desert valley.
“But what about you?” Teti asked, puzzled. Judging by the harsh punishment meted out to the guards, she would not have believed Aneksi could live to tell the tale, had she not been sitting here doing just that. “He didn’t just let you go?”
Aneksi shook her head with a smile that did not touch her eyes, and resumed staring vacantly out of the window. When she picked up the story of her own fate, it was as if she was speaking of another person, or perhaps just another lifetime.
“He came to an arrangement with the harem mistress. She was in absolute agreement that what I had done should never become known, for fear it would reflect badly on her. It was decided that for the good of everyone I should just be rejected as unsuitable, and sold on. I hear the commander of the guard bought me for a very reasonable price – I think in truth he did rather fancy joining in that night.” Suddenly Aneksi blinked and gave her head a tiny shake, as if coming back to the present. “And that is how I came to live here.”
Caught off guard by the abrupt conclusion of her tale, Teti took a moment to fully realise what Aneksi was saying. Then her eyes widened with shock.
“The commander of the palace guard was Ahmose?”
“Don’t you ever accuse me of that!” he bellowed as Paneb stumbled backwards. He would have been offended by the suggestion even ordinarily, but especially today, when he was already sacrificing so much of his own personal happiness to duty. “I was only forced to put my family before my duty this afternoon because you wouldn’t do yours!” He felt no such familial loyalty now, his face hard and remorseless as he watched his brother stagger to his feet, licking blood from the corner of his mouth. In his anger Djehuty felt no more pity than he would for a traitor. “But maybe that was your plan all along? Maybe you were just waiting to step into my boots once I was expelled from the brotherhood with a deserter’s brand on each cheek!”
Paneb straightened up and gave him such a look of hurt and betrayal, he felt sure it would finally break through that hard-headed exterior.
“You should be ashamed to say such a thing to me.”
“The shame I feel is nothing compared to my sister’s at having a coward for a husband!”
That one cut too close to the bone, and it was the last insult Paneb would take from his brother-in-law.
“Coward? I’ll show you coward!” he roared, lashing out a fist at his chief.
Djehuty’s cat-like reflexes were too quick for the heavier man though. His head deftly ducked under the blow and Paneb’s huge hammer-like fist whistled past his shoulder. As it did, Djehuty's hand reflexively shot out to grab Paneb’s wrist, and with one sharp twist and a wrench Paneb’s face was pressed against the desk with his arm pinned behind his back. Pushing down on the back of Paneb’s neck, Djehuty bent to speak in his ear.
“Need I remind you that the punishment for striking a superior officer is death?”
“It was just before he became deputy chief, so he was keen not to let anything risk his promotion,” she explained, her tone hardening with cynicism once more. No matter how virtuous everyone might think him, Aneksi knew there were always selfish motives to be found behind Ahmose's good deeds, if one looked hard enough. “A few months later the chief of police was indicted in that tomb robbing scandal – you must remember, the city stank of corpses for weeks afterwards, and the last body to be taken down off its spike was the Medjai chief’s. Ahmose played a large part in exposing his corruption and bringing him to justice, with the help of Kiya’s father, who was chief magistrate at the time. So in just a few months, Ahmose went from commander of the palace guard to one of the most powerful men in Egypt. But if the incident in the palace gardens had ever become known, he would not be where he is now.”
Teti was starting to appreciate just how momentous Aneksi’s revelation was. Ahmose was not quite the paragon of virtue he seemed, and what she had always thought to be Aneksi's rather harsh perception of him was starting to look more valid by the moment.
But Djehuty’s hold slackened as the strain on his bandaged forearm became too much, and he felt something rupture. The pain brought him to his senses a little, and suddenly he remembered who it was pinned beneath him; not a traitor but his sister’s husband, a man he liked and respected. This was not the way he treated family. Releasing his hold on Paneb’s neck, he stepped back to allow him up.
“The penalty for taking a swing at your brother-in-law is that you never get to live down the fact that you missed,” he said as he offered the man his good hand. To his relief, Paneb recognised the gesture for the apology it was, and accepted his help getting up off the sacrificial stone.
“It’s a good job too – I would have taken your head off,” the heavier man grunted as he stood to face him once more.
“Then we would both be dead, and this family has endured far too much tragedy for one day already.” Djehuty sighed, his anger replaced by grief and remorse as he leaned back against the edge of the desk, holding his bandaged forearm.
Paneb turned and sat beside him, rubbing his aching shoulder where Djehuty had wrenched it almost out of the socket.
“I’m sorry,” Paneb said eventually, the word sounding hollow and empty to his ears.
“For what, that poor excuse for a right hook?” The words were playful, but their tone and Djehuty’s dark expression did not invite flippancy.
“No, for being a poor excuse for a deputy,” Paneb replied bitterly. “Today I demonstrated that I’m not fit for the job, which I know you only gave me for Mery’s sake. But that should not save me from a court martial.”
Djehuty shook his head and sighed. This was the one major fault with his deputy, and it was one that no matter how hard he tried he could not seem to correct; his tendency to self-deprecation and the occasional crisis of confidence. Djehuty had never been one to coddle his men with praise. He expected a lot, and when those expectations were met he thought he made his satisfaction known. Apparently not well enough.
“You were born to be a Medjai,” he said as he began to rebandage his wrist, “a formidable force when provoked, yet slow to anger, and with a sense of justice and loyalty not often found in a profession as rife with corruption as ours. You have risen through the ranks from the bottom rung, and you would have made deputy chief even without your marriage to my sister – yes,” he affirmed when Paneb snorted his disbelief, “do not think that nepotism had anything to do with your appointment. Brother or not, I would not have given you command if I did not have faith in your abilities. But it seems you have little faith in them yourself, and I cannot have my deputy chief appearing weak and indecisive.”
Paneb nodded his head in acceptance of the words he knew were coming.
“I’m being demoted.”
“No, you are being reprimanded,” Djehuty snapped irritably. “Right now I want to give you such a boot up the backside I can hardly restrain myself – you frustrate me beyond belief! You could be a great leader, and yet you constantly seek direction and endorsement of your actions from me, as if you have no confidence in your own authority.”
Paneb wanted to point out his chief's apparent contradiction in reprimanding him for disobeying his orders, and then complaining that he was too reliant on him for instructions, but thought that might just be pushing his luck right now. So he held his tongue and let Ahmose continue.
“I cannot always be there to take responsibility, Paneb. I am your chief, but you must be ready to take my place at a moment’s notice and without hesitation.”
“And I have done, whenever you have been called away from the city,” Paneb reminded him, having just spent a month as acting chief in Ahmose’s absence. “Have you ever had cause to complain about the way I run things when you’re not here?”
Djehuty hid a grin at how swiftly Paneb had reversed direction and was now desperately trying to list his own merits in his defence. With some men all it took was a little criticism to prick their pride.
“No, on a day to day basis you are an extremely adept administrator and commander. Your reorganisation of the watches has greatly improved our coverage of the south side of the city, and alleviated jurisdictional clashes with River Police.” Djehuty saw Paneb’s shoulders come up slightly, and decided it was time to deliver the ‘but’. “But as to your use of emergency executive powers…” Djehuty looked down in disappointment. “You were tested for the first time today, and for the first time I was made to question the wisdom of my choice in a second.”
Had Djehuty looked up at that moment, he would have seen the look of injured pride and determination on Paneb’s face, and known his plan had succeeded even before Paneb’s next words confirmed it.
“I will never give you cause to question it again.”
Djehuty smiled for the first time in their conversation.
“Good. Any other answer and I would have busted you back down to watch captain.”
“So this whole affair, which by rights should have resulted in your execution and Ahmose’s exile, was all just quietly resolved by him taking you in?” A lot of things were beginning to fall into place in her mind.
“I told you he fancied me,” Aneksi said matter-of-factly. “I was his first since Kiya moved into her own room, and he took out his frustration on me to start with – there wasn’t a single night I didn’t go to bed aching and exhausted. Then after a while he got bored of lust and began to seek more tender comfort, but I could never see anything tender about it. Well, after that night in the gardens, is it any wonder?”
Teti shook her head vaguely. The circumstances of Aneksi’s arrival here certainly explained a lot about her relationship with Ahmose.
“So that’s when he got you, and I’m glad he did,” Aneksi added as she smiled awkwardly at Teti, unused to expressing her feelings like this, but she could not hold them back now. When the dam bursts, the river must run its course. “You were the first person I ever thought I could trust – besides Imhotep.”
“Well, I hope I never betray that trust the way he did,” Teti muttered, full of contempt for the man who, indirectly or not, was the reason Aneksi was so damaged and distrustful, so scared to let herself show love or affection. “Does he know why you were thrown out of the palace? Does he know what that girl did?”
“No, I don’t think he would have been a party to that.” Aneksi's first instinct was still to defend him, even after all these years. “Anyway, Titikara would have been a fool to risk telling him her plans, and she was no fool. I got to know her well enough in that short time to realise she was capable of devising something like that on her own – there was no limit to her ambition. She had to be the best at everything, and used to boast that she would become the pharaoh’s new favourite. I hear she achieved her goal too.”
“But Imhotep also fell for her charms,” Teti pointed out. “If he moved on to her with so little difficulty, can’t you see that he was just using you? Why should you still have feelings for him after the way he treated you?”
Aneksi looked genuinely troubled by that question, as if pondering it for the first time in a long while, only to discover that she still had no new light to shed on it.
“I don’t know,” she said finally, looking so lost and depressed she was almost on the verge of tears again. “I suppose part of me just doesn’t want to believe he would do that to me. It was her, she manipulated him – she had to have him, the same way she had to have everything, just to prove that she could. But I know he cared for me, Teti,” she said firmly, not quite sure who she was trying to convince. “The things we talked about, the things we shared with each other… You don’t tell someone your innermost thoughts and feelings when you’re merely trying to get them into bed.” Aneksi sighed, a wistful look in her eyes, as if thinking back to the time of her innocence and naivety with longing. “We had so much in common, the same tastes and opinions, sometimes it was as if we could have answered for each other. I thought I had found the second half of my soul. I wouldn’t have risked my life for anything less.”
“And do you still think that now?” Teti asked gently.
Again Aneksi paused, frowning and chewing her bottom lip as she thought about it carefully.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted eventually. “I can’t trust myself to remember things the way they truly were. Maybe he isn’t as charming and intelligent and wonderful as I remember – maybe he never was. But if it was all just some silly girlish crush, I need to know, so I can finally put it out of my mind. I need to see him again, and let the reality shatter this idealised vision that has lived in my head all these years.”
Teti nodded thoughtfully, seeing the wisdom of this plan. The problem would be putting it into action.
“But now that he’s no longer dining here this evening, I don’t know when you will get the opportunity to see him again,” she said, frowning past Aneksi, towards the window. “He has never visited Ahmose socially before, and even if you could contrive to meet him in public, you’d never be able to speak to him…”
Teti let out a frustrated sigh, which was echoed by Aneksi as she leaned forward on her elbows and propped her face in her hands. It was hopeless. She could see another seven years slipping by as she dwelled on what might have been, and tormented herself with what never could be.
But the gods had not finished meddling in the affairs of the harem that day.
However, the story of his miraculous triumph against the hippo, which in the days and months to come would be retold as if the beast were Seth himself, made their commander an even more potent symbol of their patron god, Horus. And like Horus, from that day on Lord Ahmose would also be known as the Mighty Falcon, not only beloved by the gods but immortal like them.
Had there been any lingering uncertainty about the way Ahmose had attained his position, that black and ill-omened day of the hippo erased it beyond all doubt. But being temporarily relieved of duty pending the investigation, after praising their service and loyalty and commending them for their actions at the festival, the Medjai high chief formally handed over command of the Horus Guard to his deputy.
The ensuing protest was only prevented from disintegrating into a full scale revolt by Paneb appealing to their honour as Ahmose’s hand-picked men, and reminding them that their present conduct could only reflect badly on their commander. Pride and loyalty instantly made them form into line. Paneb also was eager to prove himself, and wasted no time dispatching them to their duties, quelling any doubts about his authority.
Satisfied that his men were in good hands, Djehuty made a brief tour of the barracks, only to discover that most of the visiting chiefs had gathered there. Among his many other concerns that day, he had forgotten that they were supposed to be dining with him. The high chief Medjai could not have his regional chiefs eating lentil stew from clay bowls in a communal mess hall – especially not while they were still in shock from the death of one of their colleagues. Under the circumstances, inviting them back to pay their respects to Amunakht seemed the only right and honourable thing to do.
The watch fires were aleady blazing along the city walls as Djehuty led this solemn party through the the torchlit streets of Thebes, and entered the gates of his bereaved house.
“Hathor’s holy tits, have you heard!” Neffie gushed excitedly as she tore the curtain aside and burst into the bath chamber. Teti and Aneksi both jerked upright, startled for a moment, before shaking their heads at her in confusion. “The banquet is back on! We have to get ready at once!”
Teti’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, while Aneksi only managed to raise one to display her scepticism. The fact that it was Neffie relating this information didn’t add to their credulity; she was always getting the wrong end of the obelisk. But it seemed that this time she had her facts perfectly straight.
“It’s true!” Dhuha confirmed as she appeared in the doorway behind Neffie. “The master has just returned with a whole horde of guests! The house is full!”
Now that their attention had been drawn to it, the two girls could indeed hear a faint hum of activity coming from downstairs. The sound of hasty preparations rose from the kitchen doorway below the bathroom window; baking dishes being taken back outside to the oven, jars and trays being fetched from the pantry, plates being stacked – and dropped – followed by the cook’s colourful cursing.
“She hasn’t said anything about the play, but the mistress wants us dressed and downstairs to help serving the guests this instant!” Neffie squealed with a mixture of panic and excitement.
While Teti immediately began panicking about the state of her face and what she was going to wear, Aneksi had only one thing on her mind.
“Neffie, do you know if the hetemw netjer is still coming?” she asked casually, trying to mask her anxiousness about the answer. The blood was pounding so loudly in her ears that she could hardly hear her own voice above it.
Neffie just looked at her as if she had asked whether the sky was blue.
“He’s downstairs right now!”
Realising she was being addressed, the mousy little thing abruptly stopped scurrying and turned to face him with a bow, waiting to be commanded.
“Where is my wife?” Djehuty asked, before clarifying who he meant, as if more than one woman now bore that title. By rights it should have been so. “Where is Kiya?”
The maid simply shook her head with a blank expression, and Djehuty found himself becoming even more irritated. “Kiya!” he bellowed as he stepped past the girl and continued into the hallway. Behind him were a dozen guests in need of refreshment, and his wife was damn well going to perform her duties as hostess whether she liked it or not. He wasn’t deluded enough to believe that she was distraught with grief like Kesi was, so he would accept no excuse. Reaching the stairs he grasped the banister and planted one foot on the bottom step. “KIYA!”
“Yes, my lord?”
He whirled round to see his wife strolling down the hallway from the banquet chamber. She looked immaculate as ever, wearing a charcoal-grey mourning dress with a transparent white shawl delicately draped around her shoulders. But instead of her usual severe hairstyle scraped back from her face in a high knot, she wore a wig of glossy dark ringlets that curled gently down onto her forehead, so that her whole face seemed softened. Her lips were painted a soft pink, matching the colour on her cheeks, which glowed as she smiled at him.
Djehuty blinked, irritation replaced by shock. He would have said that there was nothing capable of making his shrewish wife look feminine, much less attractive, but dressed like this she was in serious danger of achieving both. He swallowed dryly, for a moment forgetting his purpose in calling her. Then the sound of his guests outside reminded him of his urgency.
“Tell the kitchen to lay on food for two dozen, and get the girls down here now!” he ordered. “I have guests in need of hospitality.”
Kiya managed to keep the smile despite her annoyance at his tone. Her new pleasant demeanour had obviously disconcerted him, and that was enough to make her keep it up.
“Of course, it shall be done immediately,” she said with a smile and a nod.
Djehuty blinked again, not used to such genial acquiescence from his wife, especially when making difficult demands of her. It made him suspicious.
“Where is Hebeny?” he asked suddenly, realising that he had left her on her own in the courtyard. Now with Kiya acting so strangely, it made him wonder whether that had been prudent. He really should have left her in better hands.
Kiya was still smiling.
“Hebeny seems to have made quite an impression on her future sister-in-law,” she said sweetly. “They’re in the other room, talking about marriage and children.”
Djehuty balked. Kiya’s pleasant tone as she mentioned those two subjects was disturbing in itself, but that information was most inconvenient.
“She’s in the banquet hall?”
He was glad that his sister was taking care of her, but unfortunately that was the last place he could have wished her to be at that moment. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the first guests appearing at the front door, where he had told the servants to lead them while he prepared for their reception. Any moment they would expect to be shown into the banquet hall. Hebeny had been through enough for one day without having his guests foisted upon her without warning, and to be perfectly honest he himself was not prepared for answering awkward questions about the two of them this evening. He had to make sure she was safely out of the way before they arrived.
“Bring out the wine,” he ordered Kiya. “And get the girls down here! Stall the guests in the salon for a while.”
With that he strode past the still smiling Kiya towards the chamber she had just come from.
Closing the doors on that eerie sound, Djehuty turned back towards the group standing on the other side of the room. He could see his sister and her husband facing away from him, speaking to someone obscured by Yamunedj’s broad back. He moved purposefully towards them, intending to extricate Hebeny from their company and see her safely upstairs.
Just as he was close enough to glimpse her dark head over Yamunedj’s shoulder, he was distracted by a stray gleam of lamplight that suddenly reflected off a polished round surface. Glancing in that direction, he was shocked by the unexpected sight of Imhotep’s shaven head rising from amidst the group as he straightened up from kissing Hebeny’s hand.
The sudden twinge Djejhuty felt at that gesture was nothing to do with jealousy this time.
He loathed the priest, and had originally only invited him at Kiya’s insistence, but he had to admit that under the circumstances his presence was now more appropriate than ever. Gritting his teeth, Djehuty forced a welcoming smile and walked towards him.
“My lord Imhotep, I am glad you could come,” he said graciously, dipping his head to the priest with an inward groan. “Amunakht would be honoured.”
“And he will be, by us all,” Imhotep said gravely after letting go of Hebeny’s hand to return the bow. “What a terrible loss for your family. We all feel it keenly.”
Djehuty suppressed the urge to punch Imhotep in the face, with all its counterfeit sympathy. From their earliest acquaintance he had seen straight through the man, and despite his gracious manners knew him to be arrogant, ambitious, and he suspected rather unscrupulous. Not that he had ever given any real offence, but there was a false charm about him that always seemed to rub Djehuty up the wrong way. Again he bowed, and feeling that the priest had now claimed enough of his courtesy, shifted his attention to the others.
“I am expecting some guests shortly,” he informed them, his gaze coming to rest on Hebeny. She understood from his meaningful look that he had come to take her away, and that it was for her own sake, not theirs. “Now if you will all excuse me, I need to steal this lovely lady from you,” he said as he extended his hand towards her. Hebeny reached for it with a grateful smile, relieved to be rescued from the slightly uncomfortable situation. But before her hand could find her betrothed’s, it was intercepted.
“My lord Ahmose, you did not tell me your bride was so charming,” Imhotep said smoothly, obsequious as ever as he captured her slim white hand in both of his.
Djehuty seethed inwardly, finding it difficult to conceal his irritation this time.
“I thought her qualities would speak for themselves,” he said gruffly. But one glance at Hebeny, calm and composed despite her obvious discomfort, her eyes shyly averted from the man holding her hand, reminded him how true that was. His voice was softer when he spoke again. “She needs no praise from me.”
“Well then, let me supply it for the rest of us. She is truly delightful,” Imhotep gushed, dropping another kiss onto the back of her hand, although his eyes never left Djehuty’s, as if wishing to gauge the effect of this action. “Beautiful without being aware of it, intelligent yet still charmingly naïve. Were it not for my vow of celibacy, I might be inclined to compete for her myself,” he added jokingly.
“Lucky me then,” Djehuty replied flatly, not seeing the funny side as he watched Hebeny’s cheeks begin to colour, visibly embarrassed. “But for the sake of your vow, let me remove temptation from you.”
Finally taking the hint, Imhotep let go of his host’s bride and let Ahmose claim her hand for himself, inwardly cursing himself as he did so. That had been a stupid thing to do. He was supposed to be befriending the Medjai chief, not antagonising him.
“I had thought that the events of today would prevent your attendance,” Tjenna said to Imhotep suddenly, trying to disguise the frostiness of that exchange.
Imhotep turned to her with an appropriately sombre smile.
“Yes, they almost did,” he replied, which was Maat’s honest truth, although for a very different reason to the one they all supposed. “The loss of the god’s cult statue is serious indeed, and with such ill omens as these it is vital that they be interpreted correctly. The priests of Karnak have been convened in council all afternoon to decide what must be done to avert disaster.”
Djehuty raised an eyebrow. He had already heard from the pharaoh’s own lips what discussion had taken place at the Theban high synod, and the unknown whereabouts of the hetemw netjer had been a prominent topic.
“I myself was not present,” Imhotep admitted when he noticed his suspicious expression, realising that a man like Ahmose could easily establish the fact of his absence, if he cared to check. Imhotep was always careful to avoid lies that could easily trip him up later.
The Medjai’s eyebrow twitched with curiosity, but out of politeness, and impatience to get Hebeny out of the room, he did not enquire further.
Imhotep could see the effort it took the naturally inquisitive man to keep the question behind his teeth, and decided to oblige him.
“In light of today’s calamitous events, I thought it prudent to visit the temple of Opet to consult the oracle.” Not an actual lie; he did think it would have been prudent to consult the oracle about these events. He might even have done so, had he not been otherwise occupied.
Djehuty could not help himself now; he had to know what the priest had found out. He did not like the idea of this man possessing knowledge that he did not.
“And what did the oracle reveal to you?”
Imhotep just smiled that tight-skinned grin of his. The one that reminded Djehuty of a cobra trying to swallow an eagle chick.
“Well,” Imhotep began, aware that he was about to break every vow of his office by falsifying an oracle. But on top of everything else he had done today, what was one more act of sacrilege? Especially one that would put him in such high favour with the Medjai chief. “It’s interesting you should ask that…”
“Come on girls, guests are waiting,” Djehuty chivvied them up as he went by without breaking his gait. Then he did a double take as a golden head of long blonde hair streaked past him in a cloud of unfamiliar foreign perfume. Spinning on his heel, he was just about to demand who the girl was, when she turned to go down the stairs and glanced at him over her shoulder. Djehuty’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise. Were it not for those icy grey eyes of hers, he would hardly have recognised Aneksi. He preferred her dark, but he supposed that mattered little now. With a shrug, he let the girls go and carried on towards his chamber.
Without even waiting for the door to close behind him, he stripped off his ruined leather kilt and sandals and strode naked into the bath chamber. Picking up a basin that had been put out for him, he jumped down into the empty bath and tipped the tepid water over his head, sluicing it down his body to get off most of the river mud. It was no substitute for a proper bath, but after a few liberal splashes of perfumed oil at least he didn't smell like hippo anymore.
He dried himself quickly and went to the linen chest at the foot of his bed, where he had put the clothes he and Hebeny were to have worn for the banquet. He supposed it would not be inappropriate to wear them now, in light of what Imhotep had just said. Lifting the vaulted lid he took out two bundles, one containing the robe of Tyrian purple he had procured at great expense on his recent trip to the northern border, and the other a fine white linen kilt with a gold embroidered hem. When he had put them on, belting the robe with a matching embroidered sash, he reached back into the chest to fetch Hebeny’s dress.
He couldn’t find it. He knew it had to be here somewhere, he’d put it there himself that morning. Beginning to grow annoyed he dug around, throwing blankets and folded bundles behind him to land untidily on the floor, until at last he heard a muffled chink as his fingers encountered the slippery surface of polished shell. Lifting it out, he bundled it under his arm and turned to leave.
As he did he saw the documents he had left on his desk that morning. The leather scroll cases were stacked neatly, each with its copper tag carefully inscribed with today’s date. Tucking those under his arm as well, he headed towards the door.
On returning to the downstairs hallway, he noted that the salon was crowded with people. The girls were doing their best to keep them entertained and supplied with drink, but they would have to stall them for a little longer. Servants were still scurrying to and fro between the kitchen and the banquet hall carrying dishes of fresh fruit and platters of lotus flower garlands, frantically trying to get the table re-laid, while the cook’s voice could be heard barking orders and curses over the sound of hurried preparations in the kitchen.
Djehuty continued down the hallway, but instead of going into the banquet hall, turned left into his study. It was more Kiya’s office than his, but he occasionally needed to use it for conducting private business, and this was just such an occasion. When he entered, the other parties involved in this private legal matter were already there waiting for him.
Immediately ahead, in front of the floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with loose rolls of papyrus, wax tablets and labelled scroll-cases filed in date order, stood Imhotep. The priest was looking as smug as ever, but as Djehuty handed him the documents from under his arm, he had to admit that he was glad Imhotep had come to the banquet now. Just to one side Tjenna was sitting on the only chair in the room, while Yamunedj sat on the locked strongbox in the corner. Standing by the desk against the opposite wall, looking nervous and expectant as she fidgeted with the strap of her dress, was Hebeny.
Djehuty smiled and held out the tortoiseshell net to her.
“It is time for me to see you wear this,” he said softly.
However, the room was not empty. Mery was looking confused as she stood gazing at the table, until she was alerted to Djehuty’s presence by her two boys, who ran to their uncle the moment he entered the room.
“Uncle Djeh! Lift! Lift!”
Djehuty let go of Hebeny to brace himself for impact. His nephews’ favourite trick was to hold onto one bicep each and make him lift them off the ground so that they could feel his muscles bulge, and within seconds they were already grabbing for his arms. “You’ve grown too big,” he said as he gently shrugged them off. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to lift you anymore.”
Neither of them believed that excuse, insisting that he was almost as strong as their father, who could lift them easily, and they continued to pester him until he reluctantly agreed.
“Boys!” Mery barked, bringing an abrupt halt to their fun and games. “This is not the time for your silly antics! Now stand over there and do not move until I tell you!”
Immediately recognising that tone as all the warning they would get, the boys obeyed, looking somewhat dejected as they retreated into the corner their mother had indicated.
“They’re only being boys…” Djehuty said reprovingly. “They’re too young to understand.”
“I know,” Mery sighed, casting a pitying glance at the two scallywags as they eyed up the pastries on the table. “They were so excited about seeing you, they don’t seem to realise that there’s one uncle they’ll never see again.”
Djehuty supressed a wince at that timely reminder of what this magnificent feast was in aid of.
“I have invited several of the regional chiefs back to pay their respects,” he said in explanation of the laden table and the noise coming from the next room.
Mery looked back at her brother, and for the first time seemed to notice Hebeny standing just behind him.
“Will your companion be joining us?” she asked pointedly. The euphemism was hardly subtle.
“Indeed,” Djehuty informed her, reaching for Hebeny’s hand and gently pulling her to stand in front of him. “And I think it is time I introduced the two of you.”
“My lord,” she said politely as she entered the banquet hall, giving Hebeny’s dress a brief questioning glance before addressing her husband. “Paneb has just arrived and wishes to speak with you, and the guests are getting restless.”
Mery, still staring in shock at her brother, now switched her gaze to Kiya, even more astonished by her calm and pleasant demeanour. She should have been screaming and throwing dishes by now. But as Kiya’s eyes flicked to hers, Mery thought she detected the slightest twitch of her eyelid that might have been a wink. Obviously Kiya knew more than she was letting on.
“Send Paneb in,” Djehuty told her, not quite so surprised by his wife’s behaviour. It was all an act, but it would not last long. “Once I have an updated report you may show the guests in.”
With a nod Kiya left, only to reappear moments later with the Medjai.
“Paneb! What happened to you?” Mery cried anxiously the moment she caught sight of her husband’s swollen lip.
“I walked into something,” Paneb said dismissively.
“What? A brick wall?”
“Certainly felt like it,” he muttered with a rueful grin at Djehuty, testing his jaw for the hundredth time to make sure it wasn’t broken.
“Well, your chin isn’t exactly a soft landing either,” Djehuty said dryly, rubbing his knuckles.
“He hit you?” Mery turned on her brother with eyes blazing. “You hit him?”
“The incident has been resolved,” was all Djehuty said, suddenly serious again as he resumed his official role. “Paneb, what report from the east bank?”
Paneb straightened up and gently brushed his wife’s hand away from his lip.
“River police have suspended operations until first light, but they’re hopeful that they can raise the shrine tomorrow. Amunakht’s body has been taken to the place of purification and given over to the embalmers. He will receive all the proper rituals,” he finished sadly, hardly able to believe that just this morning he had been talking to him, and now his brother’s eviscerated body was lying on a cold slab in a mummification chamber.
“Did the divers say where they recovered the body from?” Djehuty asked, his expression hard. He had to know how close he had been, whether he could possibly have saved him.
“I was there when they brought him out,” Yamunedj answered, coming over from the table where he had been picking at the fruit bowl. “When the barge listed over onto its side, the shrine toppled onto the deck, smashing it to pieces. They found Amunakht in the hull.”
Djehuty set his jaw, shaking his head in frustration. Amunakht had been only feet away from him.
“There was nothing you could have done,” Yamunedj assured him, reading the look in his eyes. “He was trapped beneath the shrine- for some reason he'd strapped his shield to his arm, and it was his shield that got wedged.”
“The gods sometimes give harsh lessons,” Imhotep said as he entered the room. “But when a man whose name means ‘Strength of Amun’ is killed by the shrine of that same god, one cannot help but think that they are trying to tell us something.”
Kiya shot a narrowed glance at Imhotep, curious as to where he had come from, but the priest’s expression betrayed only religious compassion, utterly inscrutable.
“The cook wants to know whether you plan on sitting down to eat before the beef has completely dried up,” Tjenna said as she popped her head around the door, relaying the exasperated cook’s message almost word for word. “And Bithia is having trouble settling the baby, and wants to take her home.”
“I’ll get her,” Djehuty offered. He hadn’t seen the little one for months, and after today he was even more eager to have his family around him. Without waiting for Mery’s reply, he disappeared back out into the hallway.
“You have such beautiful boys,” she said admiringly, smiling as she watched Kiya slap the youngest boy’s hand away from a platter of quail’s eggs on the table.
“They take after their father,” Mery replied with a smile at Paneb, who was seizing the opportunity of Kiya’s distraction to steal a tiger nut sweet. As Kiya turned back towards the table, Paneb stopped chewing and smiled at her with a look of childlike innocence, which narrowly saved him from getting his own hand slapped.
Encouraged by his father’s successful attempt, the little scallywag stretched out a chubby mitt towards another plate.
“Don’t you dare!” Mery hissed, at which the boy immediately dropped his hand with a guilty grin. The boys imitated their father in everything, including his overindulgent eating habits, and Horemakhet was already bigger than he should be. Although Mery liked Paneb’s stocky build, she would not tolerate her children getting fat. “You will eat what you are given or nothing at all,” she said sternly. “Now get back over there by Panefer!”
At Mery’s curt gesture, he went to rejoin his brother in the corner. The two boys were the image of their father, round-faced and dimple-chinned with curly dark hair and warm brown eyes. But it was Horemakhet who had inherited Paneb’s thickset build, while Panefer had his maternal grandfather’s sinewy physique, and was already a head taller than most children his age. It was already clear that they would follow their father into his profession. Standing side-by-side, wearing identical leather kilts and plaited armbands, they looked just like miniature Medjai.
“How old are they?” Hebeny asked, seeing herself as the proud mother of such fine boys in a few years.
“Seven and five,” Mery replied with a tired sigh, as if exhausted just by the thought of all the years of motherhood still ahead of her. “They’re at just that age when they start plotting mischief, instead of just happening across it.”
Reminded of her own mischievous brothers, who were just as bad at that age and had only got worse with time, Hebeny was just trying to smother a smile when Djehuty reappeared in the doorway.
The sight of him made her breath catch in her throat.
He was leaning against the doorframe with his head bowed over a wriggling bundle cradled in his arms, and as Hebeny watched, a tiny pink hand emerged out of the linen folds to grasp at the gold embroidered neck of Djehuty’s purple robe.
Djehuty’s face lit up with delight as he caressed the dark head nestled comfortably in the crook of his elbow, gazing into the face of a smiling, gurgling baby girl who looked back with eyes as dark as her uncle’s.
“There,” he said to Mery, never taking his eyes off his contented niece as he beamed his most dazzling smile at her, receiving one in return. “She’s as good as gold for me.”
Then suddenly Djehuty’s grin turned to a grimace as Hediya exchanged her fistful of robe for a fistful of hair, which hung loose over Djehuty's shoulders – a temptation far too great for the infant to resist. Djehuty chuckled as he brought up one large hand to gently pry his niece’s tiny one open, curling her fist around his forefinger instead.
Hebeny was as mesmerised by the touching scene before her as Djehuty was by his niece, overcome with emotion to see how happy he looked. He was going to make such a wonderful father.
As if he could sense her eyes upon him, Djehuty looked up to meet her gaze. When he saw her tender smile mirroring his own, he nodded slowly, as if to say that one day it would be their own child he held in his arms.
Sooner than you think, my love, Hebeny thought to herself, blinking back her tears.
His guests were seated according to their honour and importance, so on the chair immediately to his left sat Kiya. He could not see her eyes with her head respectfully bowed, but he knew that any show of grief was no more than that; show. Next to Kiya, Yamunedj had politely put down his goblet to give his full attention to his host, although he kept his hand near it, eagerly awaiting the toast that would permit him to pick it up again. Djehuty knew just how he felt; he could do with a few good swallows of the strong stuff himself. Tjenna was on her husband’s left, neither smiling nor tearful, but obviously lost in her own thoughts.
The next dozen faces that looked back at him belonged to the Medjai chiefs, most notably that of Shepsekare, the chief of Busiris. His disapproval of Djehuty’s actions on the riverbank was still evident from his steely expression. Next to him sat Lokh, the Nubian chief from Elephantine, his skin as black as a sun-dried prune. Already the worser side of sober, he was having visible difficulty focusing on his host, preferring the more attractive charms of Dhuha, who hovered nearby ready to refill the guests’ goblets. The girls had been instructed never to let a cup stand more than half empty, and the wine had not been particularly well-watered to start with.
Halfway up the right-hand side of the table Djehuty’s gaze came to Mery, then Paneb, and finally Imhotep nearest him. For the occasion the hetemw netjer had donned his ceremonial leopard-skin robe, the pale gold and black dappled fur lying open across his tanned chest, with the preserved paws tied about his neck. The only other adornment he wore was a winged scarab pectoral of blue enamel, which hung around his neck on a thick chain of electrum. The priest was sitting very straight and upright in his high-backed chair, looking at his host with a solemn yet attentive expression.
There was only one face Djehuty did not look at; beside him, on his immediate right, sat Hebeny. No one had questioned her presence there, at least not in so many words, but he knew they were all dying to know who she was to be seated in the highest place of honour at his table, and wearing such an exquisite gown. They would find out before they raised their wine goblets again.
“I would like to thank you all for honouring us with your presence on this sad day,” he began, his expression taut with restrained emotion. “I was anticipating my first festival banquet being a happy occasion, but instead it has become an occasion of mourning for one I had hoped to see at this table.” He had been holding it together all day, but now when confronted with the reality of Amunakht’s death, Djehuty had to pause for a moment to gather himself before he could continue. “I am no great speaker, and Amunakht deserves better than whatever poor eulogy I could give. So I now hand over to someone far more fitted to the task. My lord Imhotep, would you be so good as to say a few words?”
Nodding graciously, Imhotep got to his feet as Djehuty sat down. Now his role as guest of honour had taken on a very different significance, for as Seal Bearer of the god Osiris he would assist in preparing Amunakht’s mortal vessel for the afterlife. He was therefore the natural choice to become master of ceremonies at the banquet held in the dead man’s honour, but the last thing he wanted was to turn it into a funeral.
“Traditionally on this day we celebrate the creation of life and the blessings that sustain it,” Imhotep reminded the guests, who now more resembled mourners than celebrants. “But today the great mother goddess who gave birth to creation has, in her infinite wisdom, seen fit to send Amunakht on his journey into the next life. Righteous and faithful to the rule of Ma’at while he lived, may his heart be judged as pure, and his soul find eternal life in the celestial plains.”
At these words the mourners bowed their heads in prayer, as if asking their own hearts not to betray them on the day of judgement. Out of sight beneath the table, Hebeny reached for Djehuty’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. He let her leave it there for a moment, but then gently put her hand back in her lap. He dared not give in to her compassion and let her comfort him. He could not risk loosening the tight rein he held on his emotions.
After a moment's pause, Imhotep interrupted their sombre reflections.
“But we must not let our grief distract us from the true purpose of this day, and deny our duty to the gods,” he said unexpectedly, and suddenly all eyes were on the priest again. “First and foremost, the festival of Opet is a celebration of marriage, that divine union from which all life sprang. When Opet took her animal form and attacked her husband’s holy shrine this afternoon, it was a most dire warning. I consulted the oracle at once, and what I heard made me sick with fear for the people of Egypt.”
Several of the chiefs shifted uncomfortably, anxious to know how this religious crisis would effect law and order in their nomes. The rest of the guests already knew what the oracle had revealed – and the action taken in response to it – and were simply waiting to hear how Imhotep would announce it.
All except Kiya that is, who was still blissfully ignorant of the situation as she returned the priest’s gaze across the table. Raising one eyebrow in question, she saw a conspiratorial glint enter Imhotep’s eyes, and felt reassured. He was about to tell them that it would be wrong to desecrate the sacred institution of marriage by holding a wedding at this time, although why he had chosen to make that statement so publicly, instead of to Djehuty in private, was beyond her. It certainly fitted with Imhotep’s taste for the theatrical, but she thought he might have taken into consideration what embarrassment it would cause to her. Kiya sharpened her look to a glare, but did not try to prevent him from continuing.
“The goddess is angry at her worshippers,” Imhotep went on, “who celebrate the union of marriage in their public festivals, while in private they go on fornicating and debauching with women other than their wives.” Here he swept his gaze around the guests, knowing perfectly well that among the affluent and powerful figures seated at this table, there were more than one or two guilty of the above – not least of all his host, whom he politely spared his accusing gaze. He did notice, however, that the beautiful dark-haired creature beside him was blushing profusely. “The goddess’s greatest gift was life, and yet there are women who avail themselves of charms and poisons against conception.”
Now it was the turn of the harem girls, standing by the ceiling columns at each corner of the table, to receive his damning looks. He lingered slightly longer on the blonde, who was looking so intently at the floor that her chin was almost on her chest, before moving on.
“Without children to ensure future generations, the worship we owe to the gods will dwindle. When the goddess sees her labours repaid with neglect and ingratitude, she wonders whether she should allow her creation to continue in its impiety, or whether once again the wrath of Sekhmet should be unleashed upon mankind…”
Terrified at the possibility that a scene from their play might actually come to pass, the harem girls exchanged wide-eyed glances as their planned entertainment took on much darker, more serious connotations. It was just as well that it would not go ahead now. Meanwhile the chiefs grunted and shifted in their seats, muttering to their neighbouring guests about mass religious hysteria with deep frowns of concern.
Kiya, however, was frowning at Imhotep with suspicion. She was no longer sure this was heading in the direction she wanted.
“So what can we do?” asked Shepsekare from the end of the table, leaning forward on his elbows. “Force people to get married and have children?”
“Of course not,” Imhotep returned evenly, “but it is to be actively encouraged.”
Now Kiya was more than suspicious. The glare intensified to a look that could have char-grilled a wildebeest, daring Imhotep to say another word. But the priest simply smiled back at her.
“And who better to set an example than the high chief Medjai himself?" he said glibly, anticipating Kiya’s reaction to his next words with great relish. “Not more than an hour ago, our host and the lovely lady you see beside him were married – properly witnessed, with myself acting as legal clerk. I’m sure you will all join me in blessing their union.”
This astonishing announcement was met by louder muttering from the chiefs and several gasps of surprise from the girls, all of whom looked towards the head of the table, as the reason for Hebeny being seated there suddenly became clear.
Had anyone been looking at Kiya, they would have seen the colour drain from her face like wine from a cracked jug.
“Married?” she finally managed to say, almost choking on the word.
Djehuty nodded, and reluctantly stood up to make his formal acknowledgement.
“I had intended to postpone the wedding until after Amunakht’s funeral, but on the hetemw netjer’s advice…”
Imhotep was watching for Kiya’s reaction to this piece of information, and consequently saw in her eyes the very instant she understood that he had engineered it all, from putting the dress back for Hebeny to get married in, to inventing the false oracle that had convinced Djehuty to go ahead with his plans. It was a look of pure and implacable hatred. Imhotep smiled.
“You must forgive me for not explaining my actions sooner,” Djehuty apologised to his bewildered guests, “but I wanted to wait until you understood my reasons.”
“My lord,” Kiya said through a clenched smile, almost breaking her teeth to keep her rage from escaping them, “do you not think this in slightly poor taste? Your sister has just been widowed.”
“On the contrary, it is an act of piety,” Imhotep answered for him, now firmly placing himself on the side of Ahmose. “In observing this rite he honours the goddess, offering some small atonement for killing her sacred animal who took his brother’s life today.”
The words washed over Kiya as the white rage clouded her vision. Her heart was racing. Everything she had done, every risk she had taken, had been to prevent this moment from ever happening, and now because of that treacherous jackal-headed son of Seth, she had lost everything! She had been sitting at her husband's wedding banquet without even knowing it! She wished she had ripped up that document now. She wished she had killed Djehuty herself rather than endure this humiliation and betrayal.
She glanced desperately towards Mery, hoping to find sympathy and support in their united plight. But Mery narrowed her eyes at her in a look of disgust. Kiya had failed them both, and there was nothing to be seen in her lover’s eyes but blame.
“Well, let us drink to their union,” Imhotep inserted into the crushing silence, raising his goblet towards the newlyweds. “We call upon the gods to grant you their blessing, and many healthy children.”
Kiya felt the knife Imhotep had just planted between her shoulder blades twist with those words. Of all the things he could have wished them...
But suddenly the toast was interrupted by the crash of a clay wine jug shattering on the tiles.
Goblets paused halfway to mouths, the guests turned to see an ashen-faced brunette standing frozen in shock, her fingers curled as if still holding the wine jug that now lay in pieces at her feet. The front of her long white dress was splashed pink with wine, but she did not seem to notice, unable to take her eyes off the girl seated beside her master.
“I do apologise,” Kiya said to the guests as she rose to her feet, taking advantage of the incident to escape. “If you will excuse me, I shall deal with the girl.”
At that Imiu finally dragged her gaze from Hebeny, and a look of horror came over her face as she glanced down at the wet material plastered to her legs. Panic set in, the thought of the lash making her back flinch in anticipation. But to run would only make it worse for her. All she could do was watch with terror-stricken eyes as Kiya approached, seized her wrist and with a sharp tug began to haul her towards the door.
"Shut up," Kiya snapped.
"Please don't have me beaten!"
Kiya continued down the corridor at the same determined stride, but her painful grip on Imiu's wrist slackened slightly.
"I've no intention of having you beaten," she muttered . "I have plans for you, my girl."
Reaching the kitchen she made straight for the back door, the bustling kitchen staff parting before her like the red sea, and pulled Imiu out into the torchlit courtyard.
"This comes as a shock to you?" she demanded, yanking the terrified girl around to face her before releasing her wrist. Imiu stood frowning up at her, confused. So preoccupied with the broken wine jug, it took her a moment to realise that Kiya was talking about the master's marriage to Hebeny. "It was never mentioned? In the harem I mean. Your friend never said anything about it?"
"She did..." Imiu eventually replied, once she had weighed up the risk of admitting her knowledge of it. But not to answer, or to lie, might land her in even more trouble at this point. "But we didn't believe her," she quickly added, "not until Tahement confirmed it."
"Tahemet..." Kiya hissed the word through gritted teeth as she glanced at the darkened shutters of the housekeeper's quarters. "So the old woman knew about it."
Imiu nodded.
"She's been arranging it in secret for weeks," she informed her eagerly, hoping to gain favour with Kiya by telling her everything she knew. There was also the added bonus of dropping Tahemet in it, getting her back for tipping water on her that morning. "She said she was acting on the master's instructions, but she certainly enjoyed carrying them out – she was grinning like a jackal when she told us."
Kiya glowered. That interfering old biddy had been a thorn in her side for far too long, conniving behind her back and undermining her authority, and now she had actually conspired to supplant her with that little whore! But seeing Imiu’s reaction at the banquet, Kiya had begun to form her counter-attack. As a weapon against Hebeny, Imiu's love for Djehuty was far more useful than Mery's hatred.
"So, everyone is united against me," she began ponderously, as if forgetting the girl was there, "even my own staff!" She turned to Imiu, eyes spitting sparks. "I suppose you're on that little hussy’s side too!"
Just as Kiya had hoped, Imiu's reaction was violent.
"I'll never side with that bitch!" she spat like a hissing kitten. "I hate her!"
Kiya's eyes softened as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"Then you are with me?"
After a moment's pause, Imiu nodded.
"Good," Kiya said gently, putting a hand on the girl's bare arm. She was trembling, but Kiya suspected more with rage than with fear. "You must trust me now, I will put this right. Everything will be as it was. Will you do as I ask you?"
Again Imiu nodded, this time without pause.
"All right," Kiya said thoughtfully, her mind quickly sketching out the details. No longer with a deadline to work to, she needn't risk anything as bold as before. She could take her time to plan and prepare. That is, as long as there were no other unforeseen obstacles... "Before I tell you what you must do, are there any other little surprises I should know about?"
Imiu's green eyes glanced slyly up at her. She knew of one very big surprise that Kiya would not be happy to learn. Not happy at all.
"Well..." she began.
As it turned out, Kiya didn’t have as much time as she'd thought.
“Music...” he muttered to himself. No wonder the guests were so sombre, with nothing but the sounds of chewing and swallowing to accompany their meal. But the musicians had been sent away when the banquet was cancelled, and he would never find any to replace them at this late hour. The girls would have to improvise something.
He searched the room, but Imiu had not returned. He hoped Kiya was not too harsh on her; he knew how upset his wife could get about breakages. Then at the far end of the table Aneksi's blonde head caught his eye. She was more of a dancer than a musician, but like any good courtesan she knew how to play a harp.
“Yamunedj,” he called to the bearded bulwark of a man sullenly devouring a leg of roasted peacock, “tell Aneksi to go and fetch her cithera - we’ll have something cheerful while we eat.”
The gruff man sniffed, before putting down the half-stripped bone and wiping his hands on his kilt.
“If it means livening up this miserable lot, I’ll dress up as a flute girl and play you an aria myself,” he muttered under his breath.
Being seated next to him, Hebeny had been obliged to talk to Imhotep again; although she knew it made Djehuty uneasy, to ignore him would have been rude. He'd asked her about her family and her upbringing, at which she'd felt Djehuty stiffen defensively at her side. Evidently he took it as a dig at her humble background, but Hebeny appreciated the priest's show of interest as a very polite gesture. Certainly she received no similar attempt at courtesy from the chiefs. They seemed content merely to regard her from a distance with narrowed looks.
When the subject arose of how she had come to be sold into slavery, Imhotep was sympathetic to her father's plight.
"It is hard when the gods send draught and disease to try us, but in those circumstances it is even more imperative that taxes be paid to the temples, so that we may placate the gods with offerings."
Djehuty had been listening with one ear, and now that the conversation had turned political, he could not resist jumping in.
"Taxes do not go on offerings to the gods," he said scornfully, annoyed that Imhotep was taking advantage of his wife's provincial naivety to peddle the priesthood's lies. "They go to make the priesthood rich."
"They also go to make weapons and armour to equip your Medjai, who accompany the tax collectors to ensure they are paid," Imhotep reminded him gently.
Djehuty gritted his teeth and took in a deep breath before answering.
"I do not set the taxes, nor do I decide how they are spent. I simply do my duty."
Imhotep smiled, thinking how every soldier hid behind the convenient excuse of duty when confronted with their distasteful acts, but he did not wish to get into an argument with his host. If he wanted his help achieing the high priesthood, he had to convince the chief that they were men of politically compatible ideas.
"Of course, and it is only right that you should do so," he agreed with a wise nod. "You are merely a custodian of the law. The lawgivers are the gods themselves."
Djehuty cleared his throat, reflecting how every priest he had ever known hid behind the gods to avoid answering tricky questions, but this was not the place for a debate. Hebeny was starting to look uncomfortable between them.
"Men will never see eye-to-eye, which is why we ask the gods to settle our disputes," he said to Imhotep, closing the discussion. "Now, here is something far more pleasant for my wife to listen to than us talking religion and politics – I think Aneksi is about to start playing."
Imhotep turned to watch the blonde harem girl take up position at the far end of the room, placing her foot on a low stool to rest the small painted harp on her thigh. With the light from the brazier shining though the thin material of her dress, he could make out the silhouette of her long slender legs and the shapely curve of her buttocks quite clearly. Leaning back in his chair, he gazed at her with a thoughtful frown, trying to place her face.
"Who is she?" he asked as the notes began to fall from the strings of her instrument like plucked flowers.
"Aneksi?" Djehuty questioned. "She's been with me for years. She has a razor-sharp tongue on her, but she's always a favourite with my guests."
"Interesting name," Imhotep remarked. 'She belongs to me'was a deliberate statement of ownership, perhaps given after a bidding war or the settlment of a disputed claim over her. "Did you name her yourself?"
Hebeny turned to watch Aneksi delicately picking at the strings, and let the gentle melody transport her into her own thoughts. It had never occurred to her before that Aneksi might once have had another name, another identity. What life had she lived before coming here?
"Yes," Djehuty answered cautiously, wondering why the sudden interest in Aneksi. "But perhaps she should be renamed – she belongs to my wife now."
Hebeny was jolted back to the conversation as she felt Djehuty’s hand stray beneath the beaded net skirt onto her knee, his long fingers curving around her leg as they stroked upwards to rest on her thigh. The gesture was more affectionate than sexual, but it still made Hebeny feel self-conscious in front of Imhotep, especially considering what Djehuty had said to her earlier; when she had tried to kiss him after signing the papers in his office, he had reminded her that if they were to be a respectable married couple now, they could not indulge in such public displays of affection.
Hebeny sent him a questioning glance, but Djehuty was looking at Imhotep again. When she tried to move his hand, he turned to her with a knowing smile as he gently squeezed her thigh, reassuring her that no one could see. Hebeny frowned, still uncomfortable about his hand being there in front of all their guests. At that Djehuty finally got the message. Taking his hand back out from under the net, he turned his palm over and laced his fingers with hers to hold her hand in her lap instead. That seemed much more appropriate for a newly married couple at their wedding feast. Looking up at him again Hebeny smiled, but he was once more in conversation with their guest of honour.
Imhotep was too preoccupied to have noticed anyway.
"And to whom did she belong before you...?"
“Remember it? I’m still not sure I’ve recovered from it!” Paneb joked, referring more to what had happened afterwards than any excess of consumption at the feast. His mood had lightened considerably since the start of the banquet, as he allowed his depressed spirits to be cheered by good food, wine and company. And if his suspicions about where Mery’s thoughts tended were correct, he would soon be enjoying consolation of another, even more pleasurable physical sort.
“Do you remember what happened after the banquet?” Mery asked, her lips caressing his earlobe now, so that he could feel her hot breath on his neck.
“You took advantage of me,” he said with a grin as her hand climbed higher up his thigh, slipping under his kilt. Paneb was not drunk, but not entirely sober either, and suddenly the thought of Mery doing things to him under the table in a room full of guests seemed rather exciting. “You could hardly wait until we got home then either.”
“We made Hediya that night,” Mery reminded him in a husky voice. “Let’s make another one tonight.”
Paneb turned to look at her then, his naughty grin replaced by a surprised expression.
“Are you sure?” he asked, trying to mask his delight at the thought of another child. She nodded. “But you’re still breastfeeding, and the doctor said that was a sure way to avoid another pregnancy.”
Mery had been very ill after the birth of their youngest son, and had suffered two miscarriages the year after. Following a subsequent still-born birth and fearing for his wife’s health, Paneb had been reluctant to put her through the strain of childbirth again. It was several years before they both agreed she was strong enough to risk having another, and although this time everything had gone well, Paneb was still worried that it was too soon to try for a fourth; Mery had only given birth three months ago.
“You heard what the priest said,” Mery reminded him. “The great mother goddess calls for more children to be produced from the sacred union of marriage, and what the goddess wills…”
Paneb nodded gravely. It was a persuasive argument, especially on this day when one could not deny the awesome power of the gods to execute their will. Whatever the gods decreed would come to be, and Paneb just had to entrust himself and those he loved to their protection.
“Besides,” Mery added with an impish giggle, “I’m not getting any younger – and nor are you.”
Paneb raised a sardonic eyebrow at her dig about his age.
“I’m thirty-eight, dear. Not quite ready for my tomb yet,” he replied dryly.
“Are you sure?” she returned with a sly smile as her hand slid up to cup his crotch. “You do seem a little stiff…”
Paneb actually seemed to blush at that, although it might just have been the wine and the leaping flames of the braziers warming his cheeks.
“I want you now,” Mery whispered, smiling innocently as she caught the eye of the chief of Hermopolis across the table. He seemed quite oblivious to what was going on beneath it, although Paneb certainly wasn’t.
“We can’t leave so early, it would insult your brother,” he said in a strained voice, doing his best to control his body’s reaction to her touch. “Perhaps in an hour or so...”
“I can’t wait that long,” Mery replied impatiently. “In five minutes make some excuse, and meet me in the stables.”
Then with one last teasing stroke, Mery got up and left the chamber.
It took Paneb all of those five minutes to recover before he could stand up without embarrassing himself.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! She scolded herself. Outwitted by a bunch of silly girls and a senile old crone!
She should have realised they were up to something when three of the girls had started their purifications at the same time. It was not completely unheard of, but alongside her suspicions the coincidence should have rung alarm bells. Perhaps it had, but after her scare with that clumsy oaf Neferfure almost poisoning herself to death, she had been too frightened to act on her instincts, convincing herself that her suspicions were just paranoia.
But it seemed they had been justified after all; Hebeny was carrying Djehuty's child. Kiya had no choice now, she had to get rid of her, and before she whelped her brat. But it would not be so easy anymore. Not only was she a free woman now, with legal status that gave her far more protection than she'd had as a slave, but as Djehuty's wife she would also be in constant company, either with Djehuty himself, or that meddling old battleaxe who doted on them both.
Kiya looked up at the darkened servant's quarters. Well, there at least was one obstacle she could remove. After all, following her attack Tahemet was in such frail health, no one would be at all suspicious were she to pass away during the night... Kiya thought about going into her room, tiptoeing up to her bedside, and quietly, ever so quietly, slipping a pillow over her face...
Was anyone even watching over her? If so, she could always say she was just paying a visit out of concern. If not...
There was nothing to be lost by checking. Without another moment's pause, Kiya started towards the end of the single-storey building next to the stables, where an open shutter admitted a view into Tahemet's bedroom.
Paneb responded with his own urgent ardour, pushing Mery back towards an empty stall where she had prepared a pile of clean straw. Grappling her to the ground he wasted no time with pleasantries, but Mery gave him little choice in the matter anyway; as she fell onto her back she tugged her skirt up around her waist and locked her legs around him, pulling him down in a vice-like grip.
Paneb was usually a very gentle lover, but Mery was in no mood for gentle. Consumed with animal lust, she let out a feral growl as she dug her nails into his back, making him hiss with pain.
“Like that is it, my wildcat?”
Rolling onto his back, Paneb pulled Mery on top of him.
“Ai! Not so fast!” he gasped as she drove herself onto him, grabbing her by the hips to slow her movements for fear that he would spend himself too soon and leave her unsatisfied.
But he needn’t have worried. Mery was way ahead of him this time. It wasn't long before her first cry of ecstasy startled the horse in the next stall, and moments later Paneb jerked upright as he reached his own climax, seizing Mery’s lips in a breathless kiss to silence her.
When he released her again, Mery opened her eyes and smiled at the half-lidded look of satisfaction on her husband’s face. They hadn’t made love like that in months – not since the night of the last Great Festival in fact. She thought it no coincidence that Hediya had been conceived during the festival of creation, and she hoped this union would prove to be just as fruitful.
“Hathor grant it is a girl,” Mery whispered breathlessly as she draped her arms around Paneb’s neck and slumped against him in exhaustion.
“Hardly the most auspicious surroundings to make a baby,” Paneb said with a chuckle as he glanced around at the stable. Djehuty’s prize stallion, his huge black chariot horse, was observing them curiously from the opposite stall, blowing straw dust from his nostrils as he whickered softly.
“If you remember, Horemakhet was made up against the wall of a prison cell,” Mery snorted with amusement as she picked bits of straw out of Paneb’s wiry curls – it would certainly give them away if he returned to the banquet in that state.
But Paneb was looking at her with a serious expression again as he tightened his arms around her.
“Yes, and you know how inauspicious that proved to be,” he reminded her gravely.
Having Horemakhet had almost killed her, and suddenly his earlier anxieties about their impulsive decision to have another child came flooding back. Releasing his hold on her waist, he brushed a lock of damp hair away from her face and levelled his serious gaze at her. There was so much love and fear in his eyes that Mery felt a lump come to her throat. When at last he spoke his voice was thick with emotion.
“My Beloved One of Sekhmet, what would I do if I ever lost you?”
Wrapping her arms more tightly around him, she kissed him deeply, a kiss that was as poignant as it was sweet, fierce yet tender.
“You’re not going to lose me,” she assured him as she leaned back and took his face in her hands. “The moment I saw you I knew our souls were destined to complete each other. Now they are one, and can never be parted again.”
“You won’t run off and leave me for some young stud then?” he asked, only half joking. Their sixteen-year age difference had always preyed on his mind, especially as his first marriage had ended in divorce when his wife was unfaithful. He lived in constant fear that if he did not satisfy Mery’s considerable carnal appetite, she would find someone who could.
“Cut off my head and stick it on a pike if I do,” Mery returned flippantly, but when she saw him wince she became serious again. “I’ll never leave you, Paneb,” she promised as she put her arms around his neck once more, resting her forehead against his. “Never…”
Smiling with satisfaction, Paneb began to feel himself stir to life once more. Gently rolling his wife back onto the soft straw, he proceeded to make very slow, tender love to her.
Kiya heard the breathless sigh coming from somewhere on her right. Halting halfway across the courtyard, her head jerked in the direction of the stables, from which she could now hear the sound of rustling straw and gentle murmurs of pleasure. Kiya narrowed her eyes in disgust. It would not be the first time one of Yamunedj's servants had seduced a kitchen maid during his stay. If Kiya had her way, this time the slave would be castrated and the girl sold to a brothel. Turning away from Tahemet's quarters, she marched towards the stables, determined to catch the guilty pair in the act.
"Oh, yes..."
Kiya paused mid-stride, surprise and confusion battling for possession of her features. Surely her ears were playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn that sounded like...
"Mery..."
There was no mistaking that voice; Kiya had heard it in her house too often not to recognise Paneb as its owner. For a moment Kiya was too stunned to think, then jealousy swept in, only to be immediately replaced by concern. Was Mery being forced against her will? It didn't sound like she was in distress, but she did say that after Paneb had threatened to force himself on her if she refused him, she had decided it would be better to play along rather than resist. Was that what she was doing now?
"Yes, oh Paneb..."
Mery's cries were certainly convincing, and Kiya's jealousy threatened to return; her lover had never sounded that passionate or aroused during their lovemaking. The longer she stood listening to the moans and gasps and whimpers, the less convinced Kiya became that they were purely for Paneb's benefit. As much as the sight would appal her, she had to see it for herself, see the expression on Mery's face as she lay with her husband. Only then would she be sure.
Starting forward again, Kiya entered the covered yard between the stalls and crept towards the noisy one on the right. As she approached she could make out the shape of two hairy, well-muscled legs protruding from the shadows, bare feet struggling for purchase on the loose straw strewn across the floor. When they slipped, Mery giggled.
"I'm going to have straw-rash on my bottom tomorrow," she snickered.
"Well, you chose the location," Paneb reminded her as he got to his knees.
"I couldn't wait 'til we got home," Mery sighed breathily. "When a woman nearly loses her husband, she realises that every moment with him is precious. Come to me, my darling, let me show you how much I love you..."
Finally close enough to see into the stall, Kiya was horrified at the sight of Mery pulling her husband down into a tender kiss as she guided him into her, their bodies merging into one sinuous curve as they began to move together. In no way did Paneb's actions suggest force or compulsion. All his movements were gentle, generous and sensitive, hands caressing and fondling, to which Mery responded with moans of pleasure and encouragement.
Kiya's heart began to beat very fast, her vision glazing over as her thoughts turned back to every intimate moment she had shared with Mery. Every drop of sympathy she had wrung from her with her tears, every consoling caress, every kiss tasted like a lie now. She had been used. All this time they had been lovers, Mery had merely been using her as an instrument of revenge against Djehuty, just as she herself was about to use Imiu. Of everything Kiya had been deceived in lately, this betrayal was bitterest of all.
Mery had never loved her at all. Mery loved Paneb.
Tears gathered in Kiya's kohl-rimmed eyes as the sounds of lovemaking surrounded her like a mocking caress. Then suddenly she jumped at the feel of hot breath on her neck. She turned to see Bukhef leaning over the rail of his stall, nuzzling her shoulder curiously. The beast flinched back as she batted at him with her hand, then let out a surprised snort when his ears grazed the supporting roof strut above the door. His eyes rolling white, he began to stamp and kick within the suddenly oppressive confines of his stall. The sounds of lovemaking in the next stall ceased.
"What's the matter with that animal?" Paneb grumbled, distracted.
"Oh don't stop," Mery pleaded, but Kiya could already hear Paneb getting to his feet. Bukhef was snorting agitatedly now, pacing from side-to-side in his pen, every muscle beneath his glistening black coat bunched and quivering with tension. Kiya began to back away from the animal, wary of the unpredictable glare in his frightened eyes. Then she stifled a shriek when suddenly he surged forward as if he would break through the beam.
Paneb stepped out into the covered walkway. Standing naked with the white folds of his kilt dangling loosely from his hand, he scanned the narrow yard and the opposite stalls, where several of the other horses were starting to become fretful, fidgeting and whinnying anxiously.
"What's got into you?" he frowned at Bukhef, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Reaching up to slide the beam across, he moved into the pen with the spooked horse, careful to keep his bare feet out of the way of his stamping hooves, and with one deft throw draped his kilt over the animal's head, covering his eyes. Almost immediately the stallion calmed, until he would let Paneb touch his head without shying away. Paneb quickly threw a plaited reed halter on him and tied it to a brass ring bolted to one of the main support beams. "Stupid animal..." he muttered. "There’s nothing there."
Just then there was a scuffling sound and a flurry of quick movement as something large bolted straight out from between the horse's legs. Paneb hardly had time to register the beast's dark mottled fur as the horse swung its backend out towards him, and blindfolded and panic-stricken, unable to rear against its tether, began kicking out wildly with its hind-legs. Paneb only narrowly avoided one flying hoof as he leapt back.
"Paneb?"
"It's all right, love," Paneb answered Mery's concerned tone. Backing carefully out of the stall, he replaced the beam and turned to look out into the courtyard. Two bright yellow eyes regarded him with sly amusement from by the firepit. In the warm glow of the flames, the large hunting cat dropped a mangled wild duck at its feet, sank to its haunches, and began leisurely stripping the dead bird's feathers. "Should have known Yamunedj would bring his bloody cat with him…" Launching a pretend rush at the beast, Paneb hissed at it in annoyance. "Go on, piss off, Mahees."
The guests were now well into the wine, with one or two getting a little out of hand.
“Did you ever see such a fine backside?” the Nubian chief of Elephantine slurred to his neighbour, stroking Aneksi's firm bottom as she leaned over to reach for his cup. Aneksi was well accustomed to receiving such compliments from overly enthusiastic dinner guests, and merely ignored the man's hand as she finished pouring him more wine. "And I've got just the thing for it to sit on!" Laughing, Lokh pulled Aneksi down into his lap, his hand finding its way under the neck of her dress to squeeze her breast.
Teti looked up sharply from serving her own guest, more outraged and distressed by the incident than Aneksi, who merely rolled her eyes as she put the jug down on the table and attempted to remove the man's hand from her chest. She only started to struggle in earnest when instead of letting go he squeezed harder, his other hand diving under her dress to grab her crotch.
Teti looked back up the table towards Ahmose, her expression pleading. The person whose attention she caught, however, was Imhotep.
"Someone should tell that animal to keep his hands to himself," he muttered angrily, glowering at the drunken chief in disgust.
Turning at the sound of his voice, Djehuty took his eyes from Hebeny long enough to become aware of the scuffle taking place at the bottom of the table.
"Lokh!" he called to his subordinate, shaking his head as his dark brows knitted together with reproach. Despite the man's inebriated state, that one look from the high chief was all he needed. Removing his hand from between her legs, Lokh sighed with longing as Aneksi scrambled from his lap.
"That is exactly the kind of behaviour the goddess deplores," Imhotep announced pontifically, as if to explain his reaction.
Collaring a tall, muscular servant passing behind his chair – one that Yamunedj had brought with him on several occasions, and had proved very capable and discreet in the past – Djehuty whispered to the man. "Lokh has been drinking all night. He will soon need to relieve himself. When he does, you and the strongest slave you can find be waiting for him outside. Pile him into a litter and make sure he gets back to the barracks in one piece." The slave nodded and turned to go, but Djehuty caught his arm again, pulling him back down into a crouch. "No noise," he warned, looking sternly into the slave's unusually blue eyes.
After the Nubian chief's exit, Djehuty turned to Imhotep to see that he was once again staring at Aneksi.
"I do apologise for my subordinate – some people don't know how to drink in moderation," Djehuty said to him with a smile, then beckoned Aneksi over with the jug. "More wine?"
"He knows," Aneksi mouthed to Teti as she finished pouring the wine and backed away from Imhotep, towards the corner where Imiu was still playing her flute; the consummate performer hadn't dropped a single note throughout the entire incident. Teti cocked her head with a little frown as she finished serving her own guest and followed. "He knows who I am," Aneksi said, using the music to cover their conversation. There was a hint of panic in her eyes, but excitement too. "Didn't you see how furious he was? He always said he couldn't bear the thought of another man touching me, and this proves he still feels that way."
"Aneksi," Teti whispered back, looking back up the table towards the priest, who was once again in conversation with Ahmose, "any man of religion would have reacted that way to such impious behaviour. Lokh was being disrespectful."
"Oh come on, Teti, I've seen priests wink at worse behaviour than that at a dinner party," Aneksi scoffed. "Anyway, that's not all. Just now when I was leaning over him, he smelled my hair."
"So?"
"And muttered Ylang-Ylang."
Teti didn't understand.
"What does that mean?"
"It's a very rare perfume oil imported from Asia – it's the pharaoh's favourite scent. All the girls at the palace wear it, and I stole a tiny vial when I ran away. I've kept it all these years, and tonight is the first time I've worn it since..."
Teti shook her head and sighed, concerned for her friend.
"You're playing a very dangerous game, Aneksi..."
Aneksi just smiled and shrugged, sneaking a glance at the handsome priest from under her lashes. He was so obviously not paying attention to her, that she was sure he could think of nothing else.
"Some things are worth staking your entire hand on."
"Swtich," she suggested, motioning for him to change places with Hebeny. Djehuty turned to ask his wife if she would mind, but found her already rising from her chair.
"I thought you could do with rescuing," Tjenna said to Hebeny as she sat down. "Men can be so boring once they start talking shop. Kiya and Mery seem to have escaped already, and if I'm any judge of men when dancing girls and alcohol are involved, I think we should too before long."
But all of a sudden Hebeny didn't seem too keen to leave. Despite his promise to remain faithful to her, she had no idea how Djehuty might behave around the girls after he had been drinking. While she trusted Djehuty, she wouldn't put it past Imiu not to take advantage of the situation if she could.
"It's all right, I think I'll stay a little longer," she said uncertainly, slipping one hand into the crook of Djehuty's elbow. Djehuty covered her hand with his to acknowledge it, but did not turn to look at her, still in conversation with the priest.
"Very well, if you're sure." Tjenna smiled at her and then turned to her husband.
"I don't suppose there's any point in saying this, but please try to keep things civilised, darling," she said, brushing aside his feather-strewn dreadlocks to kiss him on his tattooed cheek before getting up.
Yamunedj looked up at her, and a slow grin spread across his bearded face – the first smile Hebeny had seen from him all day.
"Good wine is what sets us apart from the savages."
With a despairing shake of the head, Tjenna excused herself and went to bed.
“You look tired, my love,” Djehuty said as he turned to his flagging bride, reaching out to caress her cheek. He felt conscious of spending much time in conversation with Imhotep this evening, and hoped she had not felt neglected. “Why don’t you go to bed – our bed. I shall be with you shortly.”
“You won’t be long?” Hebeny felt uneasy about being in his chamber alone for the first time. It would be strange enough just entering without first waiting for his permission, almost as though she were trespassing, but she was still haunted by the sad fate of Yunet. After all that had happened today, she did not want to be by herself in that room tonight.
Besides…
“I have something I want to tell you,” she added softly.
“So tell me now,” he said, placing his hand on the back of her chair as he leaned in closer.
“Not here.” Hebeny glanced self-consciously around the room, which rang with laughter as one of the chiefs finished telling a bawdy tale and was slapped heartily on the back, causing him to spill his wine in his lap. She did not want to reveal her happy secret in such company. “In private.”
Djehuty raised his eyebrows with interest, his curiosity piqued. What could she have to tell him that she could not say here, in front of his guests? Then a slow smile spread across his lips. The little sphinx was playing games again, trying to entice him upstairs. Well, he had no objection to that…
“All right, my love, I won’t be long,” he assured her, putting down his goblet again after taking another sip of wine. “How could I keep my bride waiting on our wedding night? But I cannot leave before my guests. I must see that they get back to the barracks safely.”
“I’ll wait up for you.” A sudden yawn undermined her promise. “At least I'll try.”
“All the more reason for me to get rid of them quickly,” he replied with a grin. Then he picked up his goblet once more and drained the last few mouthfuls of wine in the bottom. Hebeny hoped that was a sign he was getting ready to leave the banquet, rather than a call for more; she could see Teti hovering in the background with the wine jug, awaiting his signal. They exchanged sympathetic smiles, both equally weary.
“Off you go then,” Djehuty said with a wink.
With that she shyly kissed him on the cheek, wondering whether even that was permissible in public after what he had said earlier, and began to get up from the table. But before she could move away he cupped her cheek and pulled her into a passionate kiss, making her whimper with surprise as his lips captured hers and prised them apart, his tongue demanding entry into her mouth. She tasted wine, and wondered how much he had drunk already.
“You’re mine again now,” he said with a masterful grin as he released her lips and wiped the moisture from them with his thumb. “I want everyone to know.”
“I don’t see how they could not, after that,” Hebeny whispered, blushing at the feel of several pairs of eyes on her. “Djehuty, please let me go now.”
“You are not embarrassed to kiss your husband in public?” he asked her with an only half-feigned look of hurt and offence, his earlier call for propriety apparently forgotten.
Hebeny realised he was slightly less sober than she had thought.
“No, my love, but I think you are making them jealous.”
“And so they should be,” he said loudly as he aimed a smug grin over his shoulder, before turning back to gaze at her with unabashed admiration. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, have I told you that tonight?”
Hebeny blushed again as she shook her head, lowering her eyes shyly, but Djehuty slipped his hand beneath her chin to tilt it back up.
“That you have modesty enough to blush only makes you more beautiful than ever,” he said as he looked longingly at her deepening red lips, thinking how they had never looked more inviting. “Now go, before I really give them something to be jealous about.”
With that he released his hold on her, allowing Hebeny to push her chair back and stand up, but to her great surprise the rest of the table stood with her.
She left the banquet hall to the sound of a toast to the new bride, and her cheeks burst into flame once more to hear a roomful of strange men blessing the fruitfulness of her womb.
She looked back to see Djehuty with the goblet in his hand once more, now full again, smiling at her over the rim before tilting it to drink the toast. Hebeny had to hold back her tears at the sight of the wistful expression on his face, the hopeful gleam in his eye. When he came upstairs she would tell him that hope had been fulfilled. Then he would know he was going to be a father.
It was one that Djehuty could not ignore.
“Is that so?” Djehuty quirked a sceptical eyebrow at Yamunedj as he rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I think you will find that you are much mistaken,” he said with a confident smile, accepting the challenge. “Aneksi!” He called to the flaxen-haired siren, being the closest to him as she leaned over to refil Imhotep’s goblet. “Fetch more wine – the Star of Horus!”
The gleaming ruby-red ribbon spilled over the edge of Imhotep’s goblet as Aneksi looked up.
“My lord?” she asked uncertainly, not sure she had heard him correctly. The Star of Horus was the finest label in his cellar, a fifty-year-old vintage red from one of the most famous estates in Egypt. There could not be more than two or three jars left – surely he was not planning to waste it on a drinking contest?
“Hurry now Aneksi, Yamunedj already has a start on me!” Djehuty said with a grin as he impatiently thumped his empty goblet on the table.
Knowing better than to question the master, especially when he had been drinking, Aneksi hurried to obey.
"Five silver debn on Yamunedj!" the chief of Hermopolis wagered extravagantly.
"Khepri obviously doesn't like his money," jeered the chief of Bubastis. Reaching for the painted leather scabbard at his waist, he grasped the impressive gold lion-headed hilt and pulled, unsheathing a sharp bronze blade that flashed in the lamplight. He placed it down on the table. "My new dagger on the high chief to take this victory. He has the luck of the gods today."
"Any advances on Sabestet's knife before I win this?" Djehuty's confidence prompted another flurry of betting activity, especially since Yamunedj appeared to be finding it difficult to hold the jug steady in front of him. Each pitcher must have held at least two litres, and the weighty vessel was proving awkward to hold by the neck.
"Come on, lets get on with it so I can beat you and have some more of that excellent roast antelope," Yamunedj blustered impatiently.
Djehuty grinned.
"I'll have the kitchen save you some for breakfast, because in a few minutes you're going to need to be carried to bed after I wipe the floor with you!"
"Less talk, more drinking."
With that Yamunedj bent over his pitcher and took his first swallow, signalling the start of the contest.
Djehuty quickly followed but Yamunedj raced ahead, gulping huge mouthfuls of the expensive wine without even drawing breath. By comparison Djehuty seemed to be taking it easy; apparently he was betting on Yamunedj tiring before he could finish. It was a risky gamble, as Yamunedj was already a quarter of the way down the pitcher and showed no signs of slowing yet.
The chiefs crowded closer, shouting jeers and taunts and encouragements to the two men, desperately trying to sway the outcome. Even the priest looked interested in seeing who would win, although he had declined to enter the betting.
"I'll make you eat your words, Sabestet," Khepri boasted as Yamunedj paused for breath, belched, made a quick wipe of his beard and then raised the jug to continue. But two more huge gulps and once again he had to pause, panting heavily.
"I wouldn't be too sure of that." Kenamun, chief of the nome immediately to the north of Thebes, was one of the high chief's closest colleagues, and had therefore laid a hefty bet on him to win. He had been watching Ahmose closely since the start of the contest, and noticed he was keeping a steady pace not too far behind Yamunedj's lead. Now that the chief of Abydos had been forced to pause for rest, Ahmose was rapidly catching up. From the angle of his pitcher he must be almost halfway now.
Yamunedj glanced at his rival and his eyes flashed with surprise to see him so close behind. Raising the jug to his lips again he attempted to maintain his lead, but he was flagging badly now, taking longer and longer between swallows. By contrast, Djehuty had speeded up. His backers began to chant their support, banging their fists on the table faster and faster as the contest entered its final stages.
"Go! Go! Go! Go!"
With the noise growing all around him and less than a quarter of a jug to go, Djehuty quickened his pace for the final sprint down the home stretch. He had left Yamunedj behind him now, spluttering into his wine as he did his best to keep going. Finally, with a triumphant grin, Djehuty leaned back and upended the jug, showily pouring the last few mouthfuls into his gaping jaws. There was a deafening shout as his supporters erupted into celebration. Sebastet grabbed Djehuty's wrist and hoisted his arm up in victorious salute, making Djehuty dribble his last unswallowed mouthful down his beard and onto his expensive new robe, staining the deep purple cloth dark as blood. Djehuty barely noticed it as he basked in his glory, but the losers seized on this apparent rule violation.
"He didn't drink it all!" objected one of Yamunedj's supporters, pointing to the front of Ahmose's wet robes.
"So? Yamunedj hasn't even finished." Sabestet turned to jeer at the loser, only to see him making a valiant effort to finish.
"He's not far off," Khepri observed, encouraged by this apparent reversal of play. "If he drinks the whole lot without spilling a drop, I say he's won!"
"You can say what you like, I don't give a duck's fart," Sabestet shot back. "Ahmose is the winner."
"Khepri's right." Shepsekare now weighed in with his opinion. "But even if Yamunedj doesn't finish, Ahmose is disqualified."
"On what grounds?" Djehuty demanded. Still besieged by people offering their congratulations, he had only caught the end of Shepsekare's sentence. The chief of Busiris still had a quarrel with him from the festival, and evidently he was trying to settle it in another arena.
"On the grounds that you did not finish," Shepsekare returned evenly, boldly challenging his superior and one of the most powerful men in Egypt.
"The jug is empty." Djehuty tipped it up as proof that not a single drop remained inside.
"Because half of it is down the front of your robes."
The rest of the chiefs had now fallen silent. Meanwhile, Yamunedj had been observing the dispute over the rim of his pitcher, and now lowered it from his lips.
"I am unable to finish. I concede defeat."
"Well that's that then," said Sabestet, hoping for an easy ruling, and his opinion was backed by several of the others. But it had become about more than a drinking contest now.
"No, wait a moment." Djehuty held up his hand with authority, and the room was silenced again. They all recognised that the high chief now held the floor. "This man contests my victory. I would like to know what rules he invokes in doing so."
"Why should you be so concerned with rules in the small matter of a drinking contest," Shepsekare asked, the wine making him audacious to the point of suicide, "when you obviously hold little regard for them when it comes to protecting the life of the pharaoh?"
Time stood still for an instant. Even the flames of the braziers and the wicks of the oil lamps seemed to stop flickering as the world held its breath. The harem girls, who had been observing wearily from the sidelines, now checked that their path to the door was clear in case they should need to make a quick exit. They knew from experience how quickly things could turn ugly at a banquet.
"And what, pre-cise-ly," Djehuty enunciated the word carefully, beginning to feel the effects of the wine on his ability to speak as well as on his temper, "do you mean by that?"
The rest of the chiefs silently willed Shepsekare to be quiet, but although he would most likely live to regret it once he sobered up, at that moment Shepsekare had not the sense to back down.
"Just that you seem to have developed a taste for disregarding the rules today," he said accusingly. "Whatever sense you had, turned to piss long before you started drinking, if you think Amunakht was worth abandoning the pharaoh for. Not that it did you any good – the man is dead as a dog in the road!"
It was fortunate that Shepsekare was not closer, and that Djehuty's co-ordination was not all it should have been, or else there might have been another dead chief that day. But as Djehuty grabbed Sabestet's dagger off the table and launched himself across it, the only thing that came to any harm was the platter of roast antelope, which clattered to the floor as Djehuty was brought down heavily by the two men on either side of him.
"I'll kill you!" he roared at Shepsekare, as two more pairs of hands joined in the efforts to hold him face-down on the table. "Your head’ll decorate the prison gates!"
"For the sake of your immortal ka, do not shed blood on this day dedicated to the gods!" Imhotep cried as he leapt back from the table, more to avoid spilling anything on his leaopard skin robe than out of concern for his safety.
Shepsekare looked blank and pale as he backed away, at last seeming to realise the enormity of what he had done. This was not the first time his unguarded opinion had landed him in trouble, but it was undoubtedly the worst. At the very least it spelled the end of his career. If he was very unlucky, his life.
"Not only do you descecrate your office as host," Imhotep continued towards the enraged high chief, only succeeding in enraging him further, "you also taint your new union with violence and sacrilege!"
Yamunedj was on his feet now, unsteadily making his way towards his brother-in-law. When he reached one of the men gripping Djehuty's powerful right arm, he waved him away.
"For Amun's sake, get him out of here!" he hissed at Khepri, gesturing towards the visibly shaken chief of Busiris. "And take that bloody priest with you!"
Khepri nodded, and immediately bundled Shepsekare out of the room. Imhotep followed, reluctantly, throwing a scowl over his shoulder at Yamunedj as he did so. Although he had no intention of becoming embroiled in a drunken brawl, his dignity was much offended by the manner of his exit.
Yamunedj turned to Djehuty, who was still gripping the knife and quivering with rage, if not actually struggling anymore. "Come on brother, don't bother yourself over the likes of him," he attempted to say lightly, although he too was finding it difficult to get his words across as he intended. "Let him go back and fuck that she-goat of a mother who shat him out her arsehole." Yamunedj's colourful insults usually got a chuckle out of Djehuty, but this time it failed to raise even a snigger.
"Get off me," Djehuty grunted, dropping the knife onto the table. Now that he no longer posed a threat, the others obeyed their chief. As soon as they let go Djehuty pushed himself up and stumbled back from the table, knocking a plate of lamb’s liver pate and a priceless silver goblet to the floor. Yamunedj almost slipped in the pate as he went to support him, but between the two of them they managed to prop each other up.
"Go," Yamunedj instructed the nine remaining chiefs, "get that idiot back to the barracks and make sure he stays there. If he's disappeared by the morning... you're all in very deep shit."
They did not need to be told twice.
Paneb had expected the banquet to go on for several more hours yet, and had been planning to slip back in after they were all too drunk to have noticed his absence. But he was still contentedly entwined with his wife when he heard a group of guests emerging from the house.
"He'll forget all about it once he's slept it off, you'll see," one of them muttered.
"Not this he won't," replied another. Paneb thought he recognised the voice of Shepsekare, but it was oddly hollow and flat. What wouldn't who forget?
"Well, with any luck he'll wake up with a raging hangover and won't be in a fit state to do anything about it anyway," said another. "Come on, where can we scare up a slave to drive us back into town?"
"I think I'd rather walk." Shepsekare most definitely sounded shaken. What had happened at the banquet after he left? Paneb decided to find out what was going on. Disentagling himself from his sleeping wife's limbs, he got up and put on his kilt, then stepped out into the courtyard.
"Is the banquet over?" he asked, seeing nearly all of those who had been present standing in front of him; all but the priest. Most were a little worse for wear, staggering or leaning on each other for support, but Shepsekare looked as white as a stork's wing. "What happened?"
"Our host had a little too much to drink, and Shep doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut," Kenamun said accusingly. "Things got a little heated."
"Nothing too serious though?" Paneb was only too aware what Ahmose was capable of when his temper snapped; his jaw still ached from his little brush with him that afternoon. But he always calmed down quickly once the red mist had passed.
"You'd better ask him." Kenamun jabbed a thumb back towards the house. "But I'd wait until tomorrow if I were you – he's had a fair skinful tonight, and I don't suppose he'll be much use to anybody until he's sobered up."
Paneb decided to take his advice. After seeing the chiefs off through the gate, he returned to the stables to find a mule, as Bithia had long ago taken the children home in the carriage. Then gently waking his wife, he carefully helped her onto the mule's back and took hold of the halter to lead her home.
"Well, that's one way to clear a room after a party."
Djehuty shot him a deadly look, but something about the earnestness in Yamunedj's bloodshot eyes brought out the amusement of the situation, and Djehuty's murderous expression cracked into a grin. The tension broken, Yamunedj could no longer supress a chuckle, and moments later they were both howling helplessly with laughter.
"Did you see his face when you went for him?" Yamunedj crowed. "He looked like he'd just pissed himself! He thought you were going to kill him!"
"I was!" Djehuty could now appreciate how ridiculous a notion that was, and it just fuelled his hilarity as he fell about his chair laughing.
"Oh, we can have some fun with him tomorrow," Yamunedj mused as his laughter finally abated to sniggers. "Summon him to a court martial and see his reaction."
Djehuty's laughter also died away at that, and his expression became more serious again as he shook his head.
"No, this was a private quarrel," he said, only slurring his words a little. "Besides, I couldn't summon him to appear even if I wanted to – I've been suspended from duty."
Yamunedj just stared at him blearily for a moment, as if he had not understood.
"There is to be an investigation into my actions at the festival," Djehuty explained, frowning deeply as he concentrated on his words. "If I am found guilty of negligence, they will probably just slap me on the wrist and tell me not to be such a naughty boy in future." Djehuty snorted, finding it hard to keep a straight face as Yamunedj disolved into giggles again. "Oh but," he said more loudly, waving at Yamunedj to allow him to speak, "bu-ut, if they find my actions wilfully criminal, they will shove a spike up my arse and leave me to rot on a pole!"
Yamunedj abruptly stopped laughing.
"Fuck me, Djeh..." he muttered in disbelief.
"I think you'll find it's me who's fucked." Djehuty's voice did not have a trace of humour in it this time. "Speaking of which, I think it is about time I went and made the most of wedding night while I still can, don't you?"
As Djehuty got unsteadily to his feet, Yamunedj's eyes followed his pathway to the door, and saw the five girls peeking nervously around it. They had made themselves scarce when the trouble started, but obviously had now returned to make sure they were not needed before they disappeared completely.
"I don't know how you do it, you old ram!" Yamunedj chuckled. "You already have more women than you can handle, and now you'll have to satisfy your new young wife as well!"
Djehuty shook his head at him and smiled.
"I only need one woman from now on," he said as he turned to leave.
"Well, if you're not going to make use of them..." Yamunedj grinned wolfishly as he admired the long shapely thigh he could see through the slit in Aneksi's dress. "Mind if I do?"
"Go and make use of your own wife!" Djehjuty called over his shoulder as he passed the girls and turned down the hall to stagger his way upstairs.
Without a word of explanation to the girls, Imiu raced out through the front door and hurled herself down the patio steps, using the potted lemon tree as a turning post to veer off around the side of the building. The passageway between the house and the wall that separated it from the street was narrow and cluttered with rubbish; it also stank to the skies, as a gutter running parallel to the wall carried slurry from the stables down to the river. But Imiu leapt over these obstacles as she ran to the backstairs against the outer wall of the house. She took them two at a time and burst through the door to the upper floor, continuing down the corridor and only stopping when she reached the banister.
Peering over it, she saw that the master was still only halfway up the stairs, taking them very slowly and carefully in his delicate state.
Straightening up, Imiu made an effort to compose herself, although she found it hard to get her breath back at the thought of what she was about to do. Her heart was racing, but more from excitement than exertion. She hadn't been able to lay so much as a hand on him in over a month...
Choosing her position carefully to make it seem casual, Imiu pulled her skirt down low on her hips so that it could ‘accidentally’ slip to the floor at the opportune moment, pinched her nipples until they stood erect, and leaned seductively against the banister.
"My lord," she greeted him breathily as he reached the top step.
"Imiu?" Djehuty blinked in confusion. He was sure he had just seen her outside the banquet chamber. "What…?"
"Is there anything I can do for you before you go to bed?" she asked sweetly, stepping away from the banister to bow before him.
Djehuty shook his head as he attempted to continue on his way.
“Then perhaps you could help me?” Imiu sidestepped into his path as she put her hands to the back of her neck, pushing out her chest so that the collar necklace lifted up to reveal her pert nipples. “I’m having such trouble with the clasp…”
Djehuty blinked as he found his eyes drawn to Imiu’s small but perfectly round breasts. They pushed towards him as Imiu came forward, holding her hair up to give him better access to her neck, although she did not turn round.
Djehuty tried to avert his gaze as he reached round to the back of Imiu’s neck, but he was not used to denying himself any pleasure to be had from her body, and could not prevent his eyes from straying back to her breasts. As he wrestled with the complicated gold clasp tangled in her thick mane, the intoxicating fragrance of her perfume almost drove him mad, remembering the many nights he had taken her to bed and woken with the scent of her still on his skin. But finally he managed to undo the clasp – he instantly regretted it as Imiu let the necklace fall away, leaving her naked to the waist.
"That's better," she sighed as she ran her hands over her breasts, massaging them gently. "The beads were chafing me."
"Well... good night," Djehuty mumbled, still having great difficulty taking his eyes off Imiu’s chest as he attempted to step around her. However, with his current lack of balance changing direction proved trickier than he had anticipated, and as his sandal caught in her trailing skirt he fell almost on top of her.
"My lord!" Imiu giggled as she grabbed him about the waist to steady him, but he was a big man, and his momentum carried them backwards until she hit the wall of the corridor behind them.
"Sorry," Djehuty mumbled, pushing himself off her. "Are you all right?"
Her arms still around his waist, Imiu turned her wanton eyes up towards him and smiled. Her skirt having fallen away in the scuffle, she was now completely naked.
"Of course," she assured him, her voice low and husky. "This isn't the first time you've had me naked up against the wall you know..."
“Well, it will be the last," Djehuty muttered.
Imiu was not deterred. Instead of letting him go she wrapped her thigh around his hip as her hands moved down to grasp his backside.
"Beter make it memorable then."
Djehuty frowned as he tried to grasp the implications of that veiled suggestion. She was right, this would be the last time he would ever have a naked woman in his arms other than Hebeny, so he might as well make the most of it. Surely there was no harm in one last little indulgence before giving up the habit for good? After all, he had slept with Imiu since he and Hebeny spent their first night together, so it wasn't as if he would be setting a precedent... When he and Hebeny had consummated their marriage, then he would remain faithful to her. But that thought only served to remind him where he ought to be going, and once again his sense of duty won. "I need to go to my wife.” He attempted to peel Imiu's arms from around him, but she just clung more tightly.
“I know what you need…” Imiu purred as she rubbed herself against him like a cat. Then using his unsteadiness to her advantage, she pivoted around so that now he was the one pinned against the wall, and reached down between them to cup his groin through the linen of his kilt. Djehuty gasped, and Imiu smiled to feel him swell into her palm. “You need someone to take care of this for you,” she murmured suggestively. “I always did take such very good care of you…”
Djehuty gasped and dropped his head back against the wall, knowing he should resist but finding himself slightly powerless in his current condition. Encouraged, Imiu snuck her hand beneath the waistband of his kilt. Djehuty groaned. He was reminded of Hebeny’s hesitant and inexpert ministrations last night, which showed in sharp contrast to the practiced touch of this veteran hussy. But there was no love in that touch – only mastery and seduction. Whereas Hebeny had covered him in kisses as she took her time exploring and enjoying his body, Imiu just went straight for her primary target.
“No, Imi-" He broke off and swallowed dryly as Imiu grasped him in her hand. Despite his protests, his treacherous body was responding just as she wanted it to, remembering her touch and craving it once more. "Hebeny – my wife... my wife is – "
“In bed,” Imiu pointed out as she stroked him. “Not very nice of her to go to bed early on your wedding night, without fulfilling her wifely duty.” Trailing her kitten-sharp nails down his muscular chest, Imiu sank to her knees before him. “I could fulfil it for you,” she whispered seductively, nuzzling the hem of his kilt as she looked up at him, teasing him with her wanton gaze, smouldering with desire.
Djehuty gulped. Yes Hebeny was in bed, waiting for him. He should go to her… but Imiu was right here and what she was doing felt so good… she had always been so good… it would be so easy to just let her –
“No!” Djehuty said firmly, pushing her away from him as she tried to duck her head beneath his kilt. “My wife... is the only one allowed to... do that…”
Pushing himself awkwardly away from the wall, Djehuty nearly tripped over Imiu's tangled skirt as he lurched down the hallway towards his chamber, and Hebeny.
"My lord, let us help you!" Teti urged as she rushed to support the precariously balanced piece of furniture, while Aneksi and Dhuha each took one of his arms to haul him to his feet. He made no attempt to resist as they escorted him towards the door, instead seeming to relish the experience of having each arm draped around a beautiful woman.
"Which one wants to be first?" he grinned, looking from Aneksi to Dhuha and back again. Aneksi had the superior breasts, but he had always liked Dhuha's muscular physique, with her round backside and strong thighs.
"Not tonight, my lord," Dhuha gently refused him. She had often entertained Yamunedj after dinner when he visited on his own, but it would not be appropriate while his wife – the master's own sister – was sleeping under the same roof. "The lady Tjenna awaits you."
Once they had made sure that Yamunedj found his way to the guest bedroom, where Tjenna was already soundly asleep, the four girls finally returned to the harem and collapsed exhausted onto their beds.
Neffie was asleep almost the instant her head hit the pillow, and barely mumbled an acknowledgement when Teti told her to get ready for bed. She didn't even wake when Teti hauled her to a sitting position and pulled her dress over her head, then lay her back down as she washed her face with a damp cloth to remove her make up. When Neffie rolled over to sleep naked on top of the sheets, Teti pulled them out to cover her in case she got cold in the night.
Dhuha was almost as exhausted, and was fast asleep in her own bed by the time Teti got into hers, far too tired even to think of snuggling with her lover.
The only one who did not seem to share their exhaustion was Aneksi.
"Do you think he'll come here again?" she asked as she lay wide awake in the darkness.
Teti was the only one still capable of giving a response.
"Go to sleep."
"It seemed like he and Ahmose were getting along, so maybe he'll be invited to dinner again one day."
Teti just groaned this time, and rolled over in the opposite direction.
"And if there are less people, I'll be able to concentrate my attentions on him more," Aneksi continued, now with only herself for an audience. "I might even get to speak to him. I know we won't be able to say anything very meaningful or significant, but it's better than nothing. I found out one thing tonight though – he definitely is as handsome as I remember. And he still has the same vitality, but there's more restraint in him now, as if he’s holding something of himself back when he speaks. I guess he has to be careful now that he’s such an important man." She paused for a moment, but there was no response from the next bed. "Teti?"
Aneksi looked across at her confidant's sleeping form and sighed. Although she was bursting with need to discuss tonight's developments, she resigned herself to attempting sleep. But the striking image of Imhotep at the banquet refused to leave her; simply attired in his leopard skin robe with his broad chest bare, he had looked so regal, his shaven head only serving to accentuate his noble profile... And apart from his impressive looks, there was now also his increased power and presence to add to his attraction. In just one evening, Aneksi was smitten all over again.
But although her feelings for him were as intense as ever, he was also more out of reach then he had ever been. Her spirits dampened by this sad realisation, Aneksi curled up on her side and finally closed her eyes.
She had almost drifted into a world where she and Imhotep could be together when a sharp noise startled her awake. She lay very still for a moment, unsure whether she had really heard it, and sure enough it came again; a sharp tap at the shutter, as if something had struck it.
Getting out of bed Aneksi tiptoed over to the window, then flinched back as yet another small object struck the shutter. Peering out through the gaps in the woven reeds, she caught a glimpse of a figure in the courtyard below. All she could see of the man bending down to pick a stone up off the ground was the top of his shaven head.
Smiling with equal delight and disbelief, Aneksi pushed open the shutter.
Finally, unable to stave off exhaustion any longer, Hebeny had sunk down against the pillows and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost as soon as she did so.
She was violently awoken gods knew how long later by the crash of something heavy against the door, then another loud bang as the door swung open and smashed into the wall under the weight of Djehuty’s shoulder.
He leaned away from it unsteadily and staggered into the chamber, just about managing to keep his feet before collapsing down onto the bed beside her.
“What time is it?” she asked sleepily, squinting to see him in the dim light of the brazier.
“Late,” he said with a grin as he crawled up the bed on his elbows.
“You’re drunk,” she said softly, not an accusation as much as a disappointed observation.
“Yes, my love,” he said as he reached the pillow. Brushing her tangled hair back from her bare shoulders, his eyes were drawn to the glimpse of pale breast exposed above the rumpled sheets. “And you’re naked,” he said with a grin as he pulled the sheet down to reveal her delicate pink nipples. Imiu may have sparked his ardour, but she had never inflamed it the way Hebeny did. Staying faithful to one woman did not seem a difficult task at all when that woman was Hebeny.
“Djehuty, I'm tired…”
“Your wedding night is no time to be tired…” he murmured as he began to kiss her neck, slipping his hand beneath the sheet to claim what was now his again.
“And I have a headache,” she added quickly. “I think I had too much wine…”
“That makes two of us,” he slurred as he clumsily fumbled himself out of his kilt, threw his robe into a corner and pulled back the covers completely to slide down against her warm, silken skin. He kissed her breasts as his hands roamed over her body, but for the first time ever his touch did not ignite her passions.
“Djehuty…” she moaned, but it was not a moan of arousal. “Stop it…”
“You never wanted me to stop before. You’re teasing me again…” he chuckled as his lips found her nipple, but in his slightly clumsy ardour he nipped the extra sensitive bud too hard, causing her a sharp stab of pain.
“Djehuty no!” Hebeny sat bolt upright, sending him sprawling into the pillows behind her. Clutching the sheet to her neck, she stayed there frozen in anticipation of his reaction, not daring to look behind her at the expression on his face.
“No?” he repeated after a moment. His tone was wounded, although she detected a dull edge of anger that only needed one wrong word to sharpen it – especially now that his passions were heated by wine. “So, now you're my wife you turn out to be just as frigid as Kiya, although even she performed her wifely duty on our wedding night!”
Hebeny’s own anger flared at that. She knew he would never have said such a thing sober, but that just made her even more furious at him for being drunk. Wounded pride and bitter resentment prompted her to say what she did next, her first words ever spoken to him in anger.
“Well, her bedroom is just down the hallway!” she snapped, throwing herself back down against the pillow and turning her back to him.
Djehuty was more than just frustrated now.
“I don’t want that cold blooded harpy I want you!” he growled as he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, locking her tightly in his embrace. If he had wanted anyone else, Imiu would have served his purpose well enough just now, but he wanted Hebeny. The feel of her warm, soft body next to his was too much for him to resist, and burying his face in her neck he blazed a trail of hungry kisses to that special spot behind her ear. Her skin instantly prickled with goosebumps when he reached it; she may have said one thing, but her body was telling him another. “And you want me, don’t you?”
Hebeny could not deny that his touch sent a shiver of pleasure thrilling through her. As she relaxed in his arms they softened around her, and his hands began to travel down over her hips and belly, although she tensed again when one hand slipped between her legs.
“Yes, you want me,” he whispered against her neck. “I can tell.”
“Djehuty, please…” Hebeny moaned, trying to wriggle away. It was not that his attentions were unwanted, but she knew that once he had sated his desire he would sleep like the dead, and she desperately wanted to talk to him.
But Djehuty seemed in no mood for conversation. Mistaking her plea for one of urging, he grasped her thigh and pulled her leg back over his hip, making ready to consummate their marriage whether she was or not.
“Djehuty stop!” she cried, trying to prise his arm from her waist, but he held her firmly in place. She had never known him to be like this before, so forceful and insistent, so disregarding of her own desires, and to stop him from doing something they would both regret, she blurted out the first thing she could think of that was guaranteed to halt him in his tracks
“Don’t rape your pregnant wife!”
In Thebes, a woman left the fertile plains of the river and took the dusty road that led up into the foothills west of the city. The climb was easy at first, but became harder as she neared the Peak of the West, the sacred mountain inhabited by Meretseger. The cobra goddess watched over the necropolis and protected the tombs that riddled these hills like honeycomb, and was said to strike down with snakebites or blindness all those with evil in their hearts who entered her domain. But the woman was careful not to stray too close to the Silent One's sactuary, as she carried on towards the shrine of a far more powerful goddess.
Finally she came to the place she sought, where the foothills were cleaved by wide valleys sloping down into the barren desert, which stretched to the horizon in every direction. These dry wadis still contained water a few feet below the surface, and provided watering places for horned oryx, antelope and hyrax, rock hare and other desert wildlife. Consequently, it was also a favourite hunting ground for lynx and mountain lions. Here, in her natural environment, the ancients had established their shrine to the most feared and powerful goddess, the fire-breathing agent of vengeance:
Sekhmet, the Lady of Slaughter.
Kiya took the flask of water from the basket she had brought with her and purified herself before approaching the cave. She did so cautiously, wary of every rock shelf and concealed crevice in the valley wall; in the semi-dark she would not see if one of the goddess's feline servants was lying in ambush for her, and she had not thought to bring a torch.
The cave was not deep, barely large enough for one person to enter at a time, and so low that Kiya had to crouch to stand. Against the rear wall stood a black basalt statue of the goddess herself. Even seated on a throne in this cramped space, Sekhmet dwarfed her suppliant, and her eyes stared out pitilessly as Kiya stood before her. Awed in the goddess's fearsome presence, Kiya kneeled.
Reaching into the basket, she took out an incense cone and lit it from a tinder box
"O Sekhmet, Lady of Flame, Great of Terror, in fear of whom the Double Land trembles!" she began as she set the smoking cone at the goddess's feet. "Rise up against my enemies and make them suffer!"
Now she took another object from the basket; an ivory comb, which she had taken from the harem and still contained strands of Hebeny's hair.
"O Sekhmet, Devourer of Hearts, the one who was sent to punish mankind and drink their blood!" Laying the offering beside the burning incense cone at the foot of the statue, Kiya stated the first of her enemies to receive the wrath of the goddess. "Bring swift vengeance on the girl Hebeny. Make her body to be wracked with spasms and her babe to die in her womb. Strike her down in the house she has usurped from thy faithful servant!"
Reaching into the basket again, she took out a beaded jade necklace that Mery had given her, and placed it beside the comb.
"O Sekhmet, woman who plays the role of the male, and whom every god fears! Withdraw thy protection from thy faithless servant, the lady Mery-Sekhmet. Strike her children down with fever that they may die in her arms. Make her womanly parts to be covered in boils and her womb filled with cancers, that no life may spring from it again. Make her husband to be torn apart and his heart eaten by dogs before her eyes!"
Next she took out a particularly fine faience amulet of the Eye of Horus, like the one Djehuty wore around his neck, and this too she laid at the goddess's feet. The last victim of her curses would suffer worst of all.
"O Sekhmet, Lady of Slaughter, the one who terrifies the gods by her massacre! Come to the man who bears the wedjat, Lord Ahmose, the Mighty Falcon. Make him to break his faith with the god who protects him." Bringing the heel of her fist down as hard a she could, Kiya broke the Wedjat amulet in two. "Bring grief upon him so that he may know my grief. Make his loved ones to be struck down with plague and pestilence. May he see his wife die in childbirth, bathed in her own blood. May he never live to see his seed flourish, but his manly parts be cut off and devoured by jackals. But do not bring him down with your arrows. May he live forever, but suffer as I have suffered."
Outside the cave, a roar echoed in the valley as one of Sekhmet's sisters brought down her quarry.
“Hebeny, do not toy with me,” he said evenly, each word as clear and controlled as if not a drop of wine had passed his lips that night. “If you want me to stop, I will.”
Hebeny bit her lip with regret as she looked up into his dark frown, now wishing she had bitten her tongue a moment ago. This was supposed to have been her gift to him, the happiest moment of their wedding day, yet she had spoilt it by telling him in anger and frustration, and now he didn’t even believe her.
“I’m not toying with you,” she said gently, brushing the hair out of his eyes so that he could see her face. “That’s what I wanted to tell you – I’m going to have a baby.”
“A baby…?”Hebeny nodded as she held Djehuty's stunned gaze, which was that of a man struggling to work out whether he was in a dream. She supposed the wine didn’t help, which was also probably why he was so slow in reacting.
“Are you sure?”
At her second nod, Djehuty let out something between a sob and a laugh, unable to deal with the intense joy suddenly coursing through him after so much grief. So many emotions played across his face in that instant that Hebeny could hardly tell what his reaction was.
“Are you happy, my love?” she whispered.
Djehuty gave an involuntary snort of amusement at the absurdity of such a question.
“You tell me I’m going to be a father and you want to know if I’m happy?” he laughed, beaming such a broad smile there could be little doubt of his reaction this time. “My darling Hebeny, do you know how long I have waited to hear those words?”
Yes, she knew; at twenty-eight Djehuty should have been a father long ago. Hebeny's own father was only ten years older than her husband, and was about to become a grandfather – by Djehuty’s age he had already sired six children.
“I can’t believe it…” Djehuty marvelled, still in shock and shaking his head in disbelief . “I had almost lost hope of ever having a son.”
Hebeny hoped it was a son too, for Djehuty but also for herself. She could think of nothing that would give her more joy than to hold their son in her arms, to nurse him at her breast, to watch him grow into the image of his father. No other achievement could make her more proud than to be mother of Djehutimes – Son of Djehuty.
“Oh Hebeny…” he whispered as he ran his hand over her flat tummy. “Are you really sure?”
“Yes I’m sure!” she laughed, and wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him to her. She closed her eyes as she held him, still grateful that she was able to at all after everything they’d been through that day. They stayed that way for a moment, Djehuty still trying to take it all in and collect his thoughts, but after a while he raised his head again.
“How long have you known?” he asked gently, staring down at her belly as though amazed there was no outward indication that their child grew within it, no sign he could have detected.
Hebeny sighed. She couldn’t lie to him, although she knew he would be upset with her for having kept it from him.
“Since the day you went away.”
He turned towards her with a frown, as she had known he would.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to, but I didn’t want to burden you with worry,” she said with a guilty smile, part of her regretting that decision, yet she couldn’t change it now.
“I have broad shoulders – they can bear a large burden of worry, my love,” he said tenderly as he lay down beside her, cradling her protectively. He was careful not to make any sudden movements, as if at any moment she could spontaneously shatter into a thousand pieces. “But why didn’t you tell me as soon as I got back?”
“I wanted it to be my wedding gift to you. Although I know I can’t take all the credit for it,” she added with a gentle chuckle, leaning forward to nuzzle his neck. The feel of his body against hers, the warmth and masculine scent of his skin, was intoxicating. Pressing herself against him she slid her thigh over his hip voluntarily this time, moulding herself against the hard contours of his body. Now she wanted to make love to her husband, to feel his arms around her, but he seemed reluctant to hold her at all.
“And you let me make love to you without knowing?” he said anxiously, gently pushing her away. “I might have hurt you! Thank Amun you stopped me just now…”
Hebeny smiled at his typically male overreaction, and shook her head. Men never believed that women’s bodies could be just as tough as theirs when need be.
“You won’t hurt me,” she assured him, pulling him on top of her to prove she would not break under his weight. “I won’t even begin to show for months. I think I can withstand your attentions for quite some time yet.” Smiling suggestively, she leaned forward to gently nip at his bottom lip.
But as his scattered wits slowly gathered back into some semblance of order, Djehuty suddenly remembered something, and pulled away.
“You fainted earlier – are you all right? Is the baby all right?”
Hebeny smiled and nodded.
“I was just overwhelmed by the shock,” she said, eager to reassure him that she was in perfect health, and quite up to performing her wifely duties. “Both the baby and I are fine.”
“Both of you…” Djehuty's usually powerful voice was little more than a whisper as he struggled to overcome his awe and wonder. He was aware of sounding foolish, the wine still affecting his power of speech, and cleared his throat. “Hebeny,” he began, intending to tell her how thankful for her he was, how much he loved her, but when he tried to say more his voice cracked as the dam of his emotions finally burst, and all he could do to express those feelings was kiss her.
She felt her cheeks become wet as tears added their salt to the sweetness of his kiss, but she did not know whose they were, for she was crying now as well.
There was no consummation of their marriage that night. Instead they held each other close until finally falling asleep for the first time as man and wife, looking forward to the day they would become a family.
Had the gods been looking down upon them in that tender dawn, they might just have been moved to grant that simple prayer.
But unfortunately, the festival kept them distracted.
The goddess had granted her prayer.
Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed the first two books. I know it's been a very long read, but if you've managed to make it this far with me, I hope you will continue following the story to its conclusion in Book Three: Lioness in the Shadows...
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