Author's Note:
Back to ancient Egypt; I got very distracted with Alex and Ardeth! But it is necessary, to see their relationship developing, even through the swordfight. It's not as if there's actually a big change -it's still their relationship in another incarnation!
The last time we stopped was at the funeral of Yuya's; I conveniently added the Funeral Feast for reasons also unknown to me. The other quotations are from the Book of the Dead - more specifically, the deification of members.
And I've been taking way too much liberty with it -far too enjoyable!
Comments and Reviews very welcome!
Chapter 17
Until when, oh lady, Shall the ungodly enemy ravage thy land?
In thy queen city, Erech, Destruction is complete.
In Eulbar, thy temple, Blood has flowed as water.
O'er all thy lands the foe has poured out flame;
It hangs over them like smoke.
Oh lady, it is hard for me
To bend my neck to the yoke of misfortune!
Oh lady, thou hast let me suffer,
Thou hast plunged me in sorrow!
The mighty evil foe Broke me as a reed;
I know not what to resolve;
I trust not in myself.
Like a thicket of waving reeds
I moan low, day and night.
I bow my head before thee!
I am thy servant!
-Ancient Babylonian Poem, written about the destruction of Erech, to the goddess Nana
The chants were still strongly sung in the palace, although the mourns had faded away the moment the heavy palace doors closed. Ramses, devastation in his being, had left with his high priests, boarding the barge that sailed for the Western coast, leaving the lesser of the court to relish the feast laid before them.
The hair of the Osiris Ani, whose word is truth, is the hair of Nu.
The face of the Osiris Ani, whose word is truth, is the face of Ra.
The eyes of the Osiris Ani, whose word is truth, are the eyes of Hathor.
The ears of the Osiris Ani, whose word is truth, are the ears of Up-uatu.
The lips of the Osiris Ani, whose word is truth, are the lips of Anpu.
The deification of bodily members recited aloud; where the boy had been human for a few cycles, he now lived forever in the realm of the gods. The words were her temporary companions to her own thoughts, mingling with the snatches of conversation that she heard from various sides of the palace.
Egypt faces a new dawn, they said, a dawn of a different kind, where there will be no more wailing in the land.
Enheduana-Rai flushed as she meandered her way through the corridors; the dizzying cloud that her head was in not quite dispersing under the still omnipotent gloom of death.
The Viceroy Sahure is preparing the chariots for the Pharaoh, she heard the idle chatter of the servants.
Their talk was not to be dismissed, she had learnt in the short time she had spent in the palace. With a lowered head and an indifferent countenance she had posed no threat to anyone -idle talk that dripped from the mouths of the courtiers as they paraded past her, had no reason to be contained. Dressed in colours of merriment, the blues, reds, greens and golds of their wealth, the latest political talk had resumed.
Her ascent towards her chambers was of the longer route, but walls were hollow, snippets of conversation easily picked out.
It has been many moon cycles since the slaves left with their leader.
Aretas had left her overwhelmed, the unfamiliar emotion coursed through her chest and throat rapidly, unabating, for the very knowledge that she was going to meet him again.
The conspiratorial voices, belonging to faceless ones, continued as she ascended slowly, clutching her sullied gown and her untidy hair, wavy from the fingers that were run through it numerously, palms clenched tightly as she tried to control her inhalations.
Egyptian spies report that they have now reached the far southeast of Iunu, where they meet the sea. The Hebrew slaves under their enigmatic leader, had left their great land in tatters.
In spite of Egypt's dire situation, she found that all that she could think of was him. The sight of his liquid eyes, large, unyielding and unrepentant before they closed just as his mouth had closed over hers; she was unable to account for the great feebleness she found in her limbs, as if a thousand spring flowers had bloomed within.
Palace gossip was rife and bountiful; one just needed to know where to stoop and listen.
Ramses is filled with a new vengeance, his anger cultivated out of proportion; I heard that he had left his command of Egypt into the hands of his Uncle, the viceroy, a governor of the inner court had said.
The turmoil of the Egyptian court and its political state was not real to her, not yet; she who stumbled along before that particular Medjai had become his prey and in his untamed pursuit lay an intimate harmony that she had glimpsed, with his breath warm on her cheek, searing and frightening.
He rides tomorrow; I saw the thousands that have left their families, who now stay with their horses in the holding site beyond the temple. Sahure will rule indeed.
His fingers had held her arms tightly, then had become delicate as they smoothed her hair, trailing down her cheeks, urgent explorers of her skin, all her reality moulding itself to aphrodisiac, an embroidery of two strong desires.
The Viceroy, tell me, if he had ever before ruled in Ramses' stead?
She was reaching the top of the stairway, the path to her chambers nearly deserted but for two others who hastily shoved past her in their eagerness to plunge into the feast and festivity.
Ramses leads Egypt to victory tomorrow, Sahure maintains the empire that Ramses has built.
The concupiscence she and Aretas had both displayed was unmistakable, she recalled, growing amorousness that would have had them both reclining in the marshes had she not pulled back -or was it he who had restrained himself?
Glory to Egypt, I say, the gods themselves ride out with Pharaoh. Yuya, deified now, blesses his own father as he seeks vengeance against the Hebrews. Sahure's loyalty to Ramses and Egypt serves him well.
She was Ramses' concubine. He, Pharaoh's guard. Should they be caught, they faced undeniable death at the Pharoah's hand, by his prized sword. Nerfertiri had disappeared when she had recovered the strength of her legs; she suspected that Djosyn and Aretas had engineered her exile, in the months where the Medjai had rotated their guards. But could she hope for a twist of fate like Nefertiri's, where Djosyn still kept the knowledge of her being alive?
The distant roar of voices made her turn her head in its direction. It was time.
Bring me milk and figs, she commanded the servants who fussed with her appearance.
They bowed and obeyed, serving her a generous amount of a large plate. She ate and drank slowly as they resumed their laborious task of ornamentation, knowing that she would not be able to stomach the lavish but greasy cuisine that would be served.
Something was to happen tonight, she knew intuitively, if she did not collapse of exhaustion first.
Washed and dressed in the finest garments that Egypt could offer its royalty. Gold that was lavished with no restrained. Enheduana-Rai sat unmoving as the servants lined her eyes, perfuming her upper body with marjoram and myrrh, their touch light and seasoned from the countless of women they had anointed before her, the movement down her calves sparking the involuntary constriction of the muscles as she imagined those hands belonging to the one who had unflinchingly claimed her mouth earlier.
How could she face him again, with her insecurities and the reluctant tight-lippedness that she carried about her? How was he ever willing to make love to a woman who carried herself with the impenetrability of a desert rock, not discovering that she was as thin as the fine Egyptian linen inside? It passed her comprehension - should anyone, let alone him, conceivably see through something this way and still not be filled with both revulsion and pity for the strangled creature and bitter creature she had become.
The servants that surrounded her had quietly slipped away; she got up with a sigh, and with a practised deliberation descended an alternate stairway that would bring her into the hall of festivities, announcing her arrival not with fanfare, but with regal silence that had so become her.
Only a couple of heads had turned to look -she was not as striking and athletic in form as Nefertiri had been, a less than flawless physical self copiously made up for in her skills as a healer and fighter, skills that her native land had placed as second above exteriority.
The purpose of the rounds she made around the hall of festivities was to make certain that they caught a glimpse of her; the crowds pregnant and rife with the talk of Ramses' campaign down Iutu, on the trail of the Hebrews. But there was only someone she now looked out for.
His presence still eluded her after several turns of the head, until the incredible force of his gaze forced her to re-look left from where she stood, meeting intensity itself when she caught sight of him, standing at the far right pillar, mere footsteps away from Djosyn.
Aretas moved over to Djosyn and spoke in low tones, the latter nodding imperceptibly. He turned then, and quietly made his winding way around lesser-known corridors; she was wont to follow him, knowing that he would not have it another way.
The balconies of the palaces were inordinately numerous; the one that Aretas' trail brought her to was empty and quiet, not knowing what to anticipate for the remainder of the night. She found herself alone, his trail abruptly vanishing like the smoke of the incense burnt for Yuya, swiftly turning around at a noise.
Everything stilled as he approached, her breath, her heart, and the earth had stopped moving under the rule of the gods, all consumed under the two dark orbs that were his eyes trained on her.
Rai, was his whisper as he stopped close to her, gently taking her hand in his, afraid as much as she was, uncertain about the course of the night.
The darkness of the Egyptian night had constructed, shaped and framed him so magnificently, revealing all that she needed to see. She looked down at their joined hands, feeling more trepidation than heady excitement, opting to distance herself, even for a moment, a regaining of an apparent normalcy.
Pharaoh rides tomorrow, she told him, head lowered, eyes fixed on her hand held in his, which he obstinately refused to relinquish.
Need you tell me this, Rai? He asked, a small smile claiming his mouth. I am after all, Pharaoh's guard; half the Medjai will join his campaign as he rides towards the gulf tomorrow.
A sudden fear clutched her; perhaps Aretas was going away too; a loss that would mean a lot more to her than she would care to admit.
I am a warrior-scribe, as Djosyn is, he seemed to be able to read her thoughts. My duty to Pharaoh is balanced by a duty to the Medjai. Djosyn, I and a few others are to record this history for both Egypt and the Medjai annals.
It was best to speak before her courage left her.
You do not know how glad you have made me. She kept her eyes at their joined hands, feeling the last vestiges of her self-control flee before the consuming fire that was him, leaving only passion and wantonness that would glow gold in fire.
He tilted her chin upwards, studying her shifting eyes, lightly placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, telling her with actions instead of words his fulfilment in hearing her speak those words.
I will tell you now, what you have wished to know, she murmured against his face, turning away from him to lean her upper body on the balcony bars to stare out at the Egyptian night.
Aram was one of Ramses' conquests, in the sixth year of his reign, she began, feeling a dulled pain resurfacing, a pain that never went away.
It was where I grew up. I lived at its outskirts, near the mountains. Her sentences were clipped, short as she swallowed hard, the recollection difficult on her head.
It was as if he understood, the silence that came from him was not a frigid one, neither was it cold and distancing, instead it had become comforting and calming, and she favoured him for his lack of haste in clumsily apologising for her suffering with incomplete knowledge as many were wont to do.
The revellers and their noise grew more distant as she retreated deeper into uncontrolled memory, the chronicle of actions that dissolved and translated into a myriad of feelings.
Aram is a land bountiful in many ways; I learnt the arts of healing and warring techniques from an early age -most women were required to and I am no different, she paused, taking in the rapidly cooling air that the desert winds bestowed upon those who lingered at the balcony. My family was large; I had many sisters and brothers from my father's many wives. There was nothing special that was planned for me.
And one day Ramses' army swept through Aram. He sacked and plundered the town and villages, killing many; some women were forcibly captured to be slaves of the royal court; my family pleaded for their lives in return for mine.
It was getting emotionally strenuous to continue, battling demons in the face of another was so much harder if she could not face it alone.
Stop, do not continue if you cannot, Aretas finally said, placing three fingers on her lips.
But I must.
She tore her head away from him, wondering briefly if he was hurt by that partial rejection, but not knowing if there was any other way. The floodgates were loose; the roar that emerged was inescapable.
Ramses had agreed, and I was brought along with these women to Egypt. The people of Aram had thought that Ramses had been satisfied, not knowing that these women were in no way sufficient treasure that he wanted. They thought they were safe, my family had thought the sacrifice of one life would protect theirs.
A shrewd Pharaoh knows no boundaries, he murmured against her, aching to hold her, yet knowing that the release of the flood of hatred that had inundated her for so long was crucial.
But he spared no one, her eyes full of desolation and misery. No one! The chariots rode away with me and other women; they made us watch as they razed the villages and the plentiful vegetation of mountains in the north.
It was indeed ironic that she was prized much more in Egypt as a concubine than she had been in her native land; nonetheless it was their betrayal of her that had caused enough bitterness to turn a heart black.
There was no bravery in me at all, as the chariots neared Egypt. The women, who were skilled in the arms of war and healing would have been great possessions of Egypt, but they chose to die bravely by their own hands before we entered Thebes. Only I, was the only one left, with nothing but cowardice, afraid to put her own dagger to her throat, lived. What you see before you Aretas, is no woman who has done anyone justice, she finally said, the force of the torrent dying, leaving an exhaustion that was always its aftermath.
Your pain, I wish to take away, even if only for tonight, He announced softly to her, bringing an arm around her shoulders at long last. You have not become so bitter as to ignore the pain of Nefertiri, even though you have known far worse pain, and not too cowardly as to place the tip of your blade against me when I threatened you those moon cycles ago.
She remained dry-eyed, stilling in his arms. Was he saying this with earnestness, and not simply to appease her?
Take heart, Enheduana-Rai, he smiled at her, forcing her to look at him, you are much admired by someone, grown in his esteem far more than when he had first misunderstood you.
Looking into those fierce, glittering eyes of his, she faced her own greatest fear - Who was this man, whose gentle touch and intensity of gaze were going to be her undoing? It was the crisis of an inner indisposition, earlier attacks of it could hardly be founded upon; they were merely absurd and ephemeral stirrings of pleasure and of the senses; the vertigo that significantly made itself present when he approached was not one that she could understand in the normal moments of life.
What are you telling me, Medjai? She asked slowly. Tell me again.
He repeated all that he had said, this time slowly, letting his words run down her as he shifted his face in the crook of her neck, positioning himself as a lover would.
What is this Medjai, that you behold me as something more than a possession? She asked then, perplexed, unconsciously seeking his assurance, eyes undimmed by the flickering firelight.
A possession has no life of sorts, he quipped, wanting to draw a smile to her face, wanting the breathtaking sight to fill his vision once more. But you stand here in front of me, a miracle of the gods that you have not killed yourself, such that you may surely find yourself once more. Smile for me, Rai; your loveliness has become irresistible.
She could not quite conjure up merriment in the wake of what she had just told him, could not quite smile for him as yet, tracing her fingers instead over his face, his beard and lips, before they rested on his bare torso.
What would you do with me now, Medjai? She inquired, vulnerable now, the soul bared.
To bring you to my bed, Rai, he told her directly, unflinchingly. To show you that my actions speak more than what my words may tell you. But I know that you are fatigued from the lack of rest and repose and I will not hold you back anymore.
He stepped away from her, wanting to lead the way back to her chambers.
You truly want me? Even when I am Pharaoh's concubine? She voiced the question that he feared she might ask.
Rai, he started carefully, knowing that you belong to Pharaoh does not diminish any desire for you, not because you are forbidden, just as Nefertiri was forbidden, but one never chooses where one can place his feelings, finishing hoarsely.
They now held each other's faces in their hands, fitting themselves tightly to each other, shielded from view simply because the majority of Egypt mourned and the minority revelled elsewhere, the land that was not wrapped in sleep, but in the extreme spectrums of emotions.
You never know what tomorrow holds, Aretas. Maybe I am asking that of you. The earth that is already so old does not need our help, and we drown all hours tonight, for as long as we are permitted.
Aretas' breath caught in his throat - was she saying what he interpreted it to be?
I am unsure of what you say, Rai, He ventured honestly; he was a man who did not know still, if he would reconcile himself to his lot easily.
You did not hear me? Her brows were raised at him, also partakers of all that emanated from her.
A small laugh escaped her then, the happier emotion wafting by her the first time that night, as she shook her head lightly at his denseness.
I was only trying to say it graciously, as she took a deep breath. You are allowed in my bed, Medjai, if you did not hear me properly. I am not too tired to hold you in my arms. Make it real then, you do not know how much you have made me want you.
He received the answer that he had so urgently sought; the madness that was consuming him not of the head, but of the heart, and with trembling hands touched the side of her face softly.
The tremble of his hands moved her deeply, cherishing the newfound knowledge that this man who now stood before her was no violator of emotions. She wanted him to hold her forever, caught in this moment in time suspended, always wanted to see his familiar face looking down on her, promising a life that was free of terror and loss.
The torture in her face struggled and lost against triumph, and with the playfulness of new lovers, they stole down the stairs, passing eternally smiling life-size statues of Ma'at, of Bastet, seeing the vibrant colour of their outer paints fading in the orange hue of the firelight.
