This takes place at the end of The Mummy Returns (so

Part III


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A few times a year, the woman who was in charge of all the servants and handmaidens would come and look us over. She would be looking for new handmaidens for Nefertiti, or at least that is what we were told. This woman, Peshet, only came when some of Nefertiti's maidens were married off, often to members of the Med-Jai or wealthy merchants. At these times, no more than a few were needed to fill the vacant spots. Though not of high birth, these girls were valuable. They were given to sons or fathers of non royal, but influential families. They were symbols of alliances between the House of the Pharaoh and the house of loyal, high standing Egyptians. Wealthy and influential men desired them not only for their connection to the Pharaoh, but for their good upbringing and beauty.

I was only thirteen, so I did not expect to be chosen yet to serve the nine year old Nefertiti. But Ankhmut was fifteen, just the right age, and she wanted so badly to be chosen. We both knew that she was not as pretty as most of the girls there. Still, she talked of it incessantly, and it became her favorite fantasy. Perhaps if she were picked, she could imagine that she was wanted and loved, truly chosen. She could forget the rejection of our parents and be worth more than she was.

I was not mature enough to recognize what would be the end result of her devotion to a single dream. I knew everything about my station and the other servants, but I knew nothing about the larger world.

Peshet came with several guards as well as Antef, one of Seti's many advisors. All of the servants were lined up, and Peshet and Antef examined us. They spoke about us as if we were not standing right there. They spoke of our hair, our skin, the way we carried ourselves, our bodies, our teeth, the color of our eyes. Things I had never truly considered became of utmost importance.

They would argue over us. One girl, Ahmose, who was sixteen, attracted the attention of Antef. "This one will do nicely," I remember him saying, as he looked at her behind. I had never thought of what that might look like to a man.

Peshet came up and looked at the girl's teeth, smelled her breath, felt her muscles. "This one is weak," was all she said. And suddenly Ahmose was embarrassed, mortified. But of what, we couldn't be sure.

She picked two girls who I barely knew, both several years older than I, girls who had been waiting years to be handmaidens and were ecstatic. Now, finally, they might have a chance at a decent marriage and a new life.

When she came to me, standing there, my eyes down shyly, she stopped. She looked into my eyes. I will never know what she saw there, but she stopped. "Antef," she motioned, walking around me as I stood there. I did not know what she wanted, the handmaidens were picked and I was too young to be moved from the servants quarters.

"Take off your wig," she instructed, and with trembling hands I drew off the black, coarse hair. Underneath it was my natural glossy black hair, bound in twine, hanging down my back. She reached around my waist and pulled the loose fabric in, highlighting the immature curve of my hips. "Hmmm?" she asked Antef as he approached.

I will never forget the look than came in his eyes. Later, I could only describe it as desire. Never had a man looked at me in such a way. I was a parentless nobody, abandoned at four years old. How could I be special?

He leaned forward, and with a fingertip caressed my cheek, which was smooth.

"What is your name?" Peshet asked, letting go of my tunic and coming to stand before me again.

"Anuk Su Namun," I whispered, the (although I did not know it then) sensual sounds rolling off my tongue.

"Is she untried?" Antef asked, looking at me hungrily.

"Of course she is," Peshet said dismissively. "Can't you see how she's shaking?" And indeed I was. My entire life, the last nine years, had been relatively constant, known, safe. I knew what was expected of me and I gave it back. But I did not know what these people had in store for me.

"We'll bring her down and show her to Haankhef," she said, tugging at my hand. "Come with me."

I did not know what was happening. But I had learned to be obedient. I quietly followed her down magnificent golden hallways, through rooms with treasures I had never before beheld. These were parts of the palace I had never seen. And suddenly I realized that the world was much larger than I had thought it was.

An important looking man with a large headdress sat in an ornate chair. He was writing, a sign of power and importance, while scribes stood behind his chair. I later learned that this was Hannkhef, Seti's chief advisor, second only to Imhotep, the Priest of the Dead.

Peshet pushed me forward, towards this desk. I had never spoken directly with a man of his station. We were taught to act as the very walls, never speak to those above us. He looked at me casually.

"For Seti," Peshet said.

Hannkhef leaned forward in his chair. He looked me over. "How old is she?"

Peshet tapped me. "About thirteen years," I said, unsure of what was expected of me.

His eyes swept up and down my body, coming to a rest on my face. He nodded. "Where did you find her?" he asked.

"She has been a servant here for many years," she answered.

"Good. Seti will be pleased," he said, and returned to his writing. Peshet grabbed me and took me back through the maze of glorious hallways and back to the servants quarters.

"Take your things," she said. "You will be moving to a new part of the palace and new things will be expected of you." I was scared out of my mind. But we had been carefully taught. Ask no questions. One thing I was sure: I was not going to be a handmaiden. This was something else, something different.

Ankhmut was waiting for me. "Where did you go?" she asked, half out of worry, and half out of jealousy. She had not been chosen, and I, two years younger, had been selected for something possibly much better.

"I don't know," I responded. I gathered up my few simple clothes and my few possessions: a necklace of my mother's, a doll made out of straw.

"Hurry up," Peshet said impatiently. And then I realized. I would not be coming back here. I was starting a new life. And I would be losing my sister, who was all that I had in the world.

"Ankhmut," I whispered, hugging her close. She hugged me back. I don't know if she realized that I was leaving for good. "I'm...I'm afraid," I whispered into her dark hair.

She kissed me. Still, even in my departure, her jealousy predominated. "Lucky," she whispered.

And with that Peshet took my arm and led me away. I would not see my sister again for eight years. And by then I would barely recognize the woman I had become.

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I have a question for chapter four that I hope some of you can answer (just post it in the reviews, or e-mail me at marxbros16@theglobe.com ) What would Egyptians, like the Med-Jai or servants, call the Pharaoh? For example, in the middle ages serfs would say 'my lord' or 'Sire' or things like that, but what would someone say to a Pharaoh? Thanks, if you can help.