Princess Nefertiri watched, curiously, from her bedroom window, as boys of all ages and walks of life assembled in the courtyard below. The silence about them was uncanny, as Anukaten matched through their ranks and inspected them. She never really liked the old Priest, nor the looks he gave her when she passed him in the halls as she spoke with Chefren on the ways of the 'old arts.'
"Merenre," she asked the High Priestess of the Temple of Isis in Memphis, and her lady-in-waiting, "What is the point of all those boys? Why does Anukaten need so many?"
She turned to the older woman as Merenre cleaned the room of her princess. The High Priestess was a plump woman and plain, almost as if some farm woman were plucked from their position and placed into that befitting a governess. But behind that disarming, grandmotherly expression at times, was the quick decisive intelligence attributed to all women of her esteem and power. She was cunning as a jackal and as bittersweet as a mandrake root. The Queen, Aalu-Ptahm II, was at her deathbed when she requested that her childhood keeper, the High Priestess, immediately come from Memphis and oversee her daughter's upbringing.
She was all Nefertiri knew as a mother-figure, her father was too busy being Pharaoh over Egypt to worry about trivial things, such as what his daughter would eat and when she would perform the duties bestowed her as princess.
"You ask too many questions, Lotus-Blossom," Merenre replied idly, her work finally done. She went to stand beside Nefertiri, as the young girl looked out and studied the groups of boys once more. They were all the same. The farm boys were stocky and rugged, hands already rough with work. The nobility, an elegant bunch, with upturned noses and prim features, those of whom she was sure her father would have her dine with once and awhile to see who her suitor could be. There was no one that caught her eye in particular, until she looked down the third row, and at the very last boy. He was tall, perhaps a bit taller than her. He was broad about the shoulders, and yet soft. He seemed like a boy who carried the weight of the whole world upon him and yet cared little for it. His arrogance seemed to seep through his skin, and the loin cloth he was required to wear seemed unbefitting of him. It was black and silver, and sewn along its sash were the symbols of Osiris and Anubis, and the other gods of embalming, death and mummification.
As if voicing her princess's thoughts, Merenre said, "Look at that one. He seems made for the priesthood, don't you think?"
"Perhaps," she replied warily. She felt the High Priestess's eyes drilling holes in her back. She should be used to Merenre's scrutiny by now. But, more-often-than-not she found it more annoying than anything. Kamilla told her that she was getting to that age where boys would start to matter, and that Merenre was just being over- protective. Nefertiri grinded her teeth into each other and refused to fidget. As if sensing her anxiety, the old Priest looked up towards her window. He fixed her with his cold look, but his eyes-always those damn eyes! He wanted something from her, something she just could not place with the immaturity of her years, but something she knew she'd dread. He turned away as Merenre returned to the window. Perhaps, it was plain caution, that Anukaten stayed away from her when Merenre was about, wouldn't dare look at the princess. Or, perhaps, it was because the female Priestesshoods of Egyptian society were so secret that men feared the unknown, and that even the old Priest feared it as well. She wasn't sure. Merenre kept her silence, though. She knew of the looks Anukaten gave her lady. Whether for sheer protectiveness or that Seti trusted his Priest, but would have him beaten and burned for staring at Nefertiri the way he did, Merenre kept her silence.
"Come, Star-gazer," Merenre said suddenly, breaking into Nefertiri's thoughts. "Come, you keep Chefren and Anck-su-namun waiting with your dawdling."
The older woman hurried the princess out of her bedroom door and out towards the training grounds where, Chefren, her teacher taught her the old arts. Anck-su-namun was another girl who lived within the palace walls and was often called the Promised One by the other priestesses that accompanied Merenre in her duties over the princess. Nefertiri did not yet understand the terms of marriage, nor knew that someone could belong to some one else, even at such a young age; save her mother, Aalu Ptahm II had mutually belonged to her father, and him to her, in love and spirit.
Nefertiri brushed the thoughts away as she, Merenre, and joined by the other Priestesses moved down an open hallway, near to where the boys stood in ranks. They all fell to their knees as she passed, and she turned to look at them. Their heads were shaven bald, as required by the Priesthood. It was almost a funny sight. A dozen-dozen shaven heads all aglow in the warm torchlight of the palace, but she kept her countenance, until she was captured by two of the most incredible droplets of liquid water. They were the strange boy's eyes, the one she'd been thinking of earlier. Her mouth opened slightly as she watched him follow her moving procession. She felt drawn into those eyes, as if cast into a night on top of a night on top of a night. She wanted to get lost in that darkness. Realizing in some way, that this boy indeed carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Suddenly a wave of defiance rose in her stomach, but not for herself. She felt it for him, it was her own defiance for him that made he believe his burden should not be so heavy. After all, he was no Pharaoh, no noble.
She wanted to reach out and say to him," Dear One, I will protect you. Don't worry."
And then, suddenly, the dizzying blackness was gone. Gone too soon.
Nefertiri was a bit disappointed. She let it show on her face, the other Priestesses, younger, some around her age, but infinitely older by their knowledge, giggled openly at her face. She masked it immediately when she got to the training grounds. There practiced Anck-su-namun. She was beating the sand out of a manikin warrior Chefren made to teach them attacks and defenses against enemies. Nefertiri had never liked Anck-su-namun, and it was not about the girl being a better fighter than she. It was something deeper, something she could not place.
Anck-su-namun bowed low, which Nefertiri refrained from kicking the girl on her face. Partly because she knew that would only start a fight and she would lose, and also because it was unseemly for a princess.
"Nefertiri," said the other girl.
"Anck-su-namun," Nefertiri replied warily.
It was definitely something deeper than dislike. But she could not explore her feelings any deeper, for at that moment, Chefren stalked out of his hiding place and had under the crooks of his arms, two golden masks. One was long and narrowed, with almond shaped slits at the eye sockets. The other was a bit smaller and not so narrow, the eye sockets a bit wider and larger. That was the one Chefren gave her, and to Anck-su-namun, the narrow one. Nefertiri gave a slight groan, which was met by Chefren's sharp look. Today was a sparring day. She'd totally forgotten, and last night she'd meant to practice some of the steps her teacher had taught her a few days ago. Instead, she'd stayed up listening to Kamilla, one of the Priestesses, tell her about the lives of heroes in Nubia.
Nefertiri watched as Chefren, a tall, burlish man with thick, muscled features and a hard, defiant, no-nonsense air about him, gave Anck-su-namun some pointers on defense. That was what the girl was lacking in, and where Nefertiri excelled. Chefren always gave pointers, always pointed out weaknesses and strong points, so that both opponents could be even. He came to her and informed her of Anck-su-namun's weaknesses, and advice on her attacking. But she was only half-listening, instead her eyes were focused on the darkly hooded eyes of her opponent. Anck-su-namun gave her a coy, secretive smile that made the princess wonder exactly what Chefren had told her. Nefertiri went over the list of her weaknesses, but could find none that were too harmless or dangerous. She looked over toward Merenre and the other priestesses. There was a look of sheer dislike in the older woman's eyes as she looked upon Anck-su-namun. Nefertiri was given an ounce of satisfaction at what she and her lady-in-waiting shared in common, as she caught onto the last of Chefren's conversation,"...Anukaten and the boys will be along. He wants them to get a generality of the palace's layout. I've invited them to see the match."
"What!" Nefertiri exploded in surprise. "They'll...b-be...WATCHING!"
"Yes," Chefren replied warily. He turned away from her as the princess fumed. Out of sheer curiosity, Nefertiri looked over to the group of priestesses. Merenre was silent, of course. Only when Chefren was around would she keep her two cents out of everything. Merenre had a thing for Chefren and perhaps, vise versa, or at least that was what the other priestesses said. At that moment, Merenre was placid and still, no protest escaping her throat.
"Are you ready, princess?" came Ank-su-namun's voice, breaking into Nefertiri's thoughts. The princess turned to the other girl and noticed that she had put on her training wear-a simple two-piece: a loin cloth and a loose buxom covering.
Nefertiri went to change. When she came back, wearing the same suit as Anck-su-namun, the boys and Anukaten were just arriving. She and Anck-su-namun both bowed deeply to the old Priest, exchanging looks. She may not have liked her, but Nefertiri and Anck-su-namun agreed on their dislike of Anukaten. The princess was not the only one who received the old Priest's unwelcome attention.
The boys assembled around the training ground, lounging on the palace pillars and columns, watching. Nefertiri tried to ignore them, but the fact that she was wearing next to nothing at all made her nervous. That, coupled with the fact that she was receiving a few more of those dreadful looks from Anukaten. They were hungry looks, as if he were a starved jackal. The princess shuddered on the inside. She checked the weapons Chefren had supplied: two kursari-gamas.
It was a strange looking thing: a long, strong chain and at the end of it, a triton-like blade. She touched the tip of the light weight and, yet, deadly weapon, hearing the distinct, slick metallic ring. She looked up as a gentle desert wind stirred her dark, black locks of hair, and met the dark eyes of the strange boy. He stood directly in front of her, his arms crossed and proud. His eyes swept over her appraisingly. Nefertiri blushed and bowed her head. She risked a glance and saw that he was still staring.
'Oh, this is ridiculous,' she thought indignantly in her head.
She grinned mischievously and stalked right up to the boy. He was taken aback. She liked that.
"You! What's your name?" she asked in her best princess voice. The boys around him shifted uncomfortably.
"I am a priest, and I have no name, but that of Anubis's and Osiris's servant," he replied, regaining his composure.
She turned to one end of the training grounds and pointed. "You will stand over there. If my weapon drops you will retrieve it for me and give it back. Understood?"
"I am a servant of Anubis," he replied quietly.
"You have not reached the status of priest, boy," she spat indignantly. Was he trying to unnerve her? He fixed her with a blank stare. "Until you do, you are the servant of the morning and the evening star, the Pharaoh, and in turn serve me." She pronounced the next words slowly." Now, do as I say."
"Yes, Daughter of the morning and the evening star," he replied passively.
Nefertiri grinned and walked back onto the fighting area as Anck-su-namun stretched. She followed the girl's example and did likewise. Now, if only she could look that good getting beaten up by Anck-su-namun.
II.
Ankhnut watched curiously as the Princess stretched on the training ground, wondering exactly what they were preparing for. The entire old Priest told them was that they'd be walking about the palace and would get to see the Princess. He continued to watch as the two girls stood and gathered their weapons, a strange blade on a chain. He sighed and cocked his head to the side. Why would the Princess pick him out of all the boys standing there? Was it that she wanted to make fun of him? Ankhnut pushed that thought aside. No. She didn't want to make fun of him, he could almost feel that. But, then, what was her agenda?
The girls' teacher, a burly, thick-muscled man, stood between the two as they glared menacingly at each other and struck a fighting stance. There was an underlying hatred between those two, he knew, not just by their looks, but...something else. His blood raced faster in his veins as the man clapped once and the girls turned to face the crowd. Ankhnut met the Princess's eyes under her mask. They were the strangest liquid amber he'd ever seen, almost shifting like the sands or the pond just outside of his father's land. He suddenly began to wonder if her's was the face that he would have seen in the pond's swirling waters.
The man said something and immediately the girls sprang at each other wielding their strange weapons. They moved with the grace of cats and in the rhythm of a dance. Back and forth, springing, swinging their weapons to either attack or defend. Ankhnut licking his lips, watched as the Princess lost her weapon. It clanked to the ground as she did three back flips and held out her hand.
Ankhnut went for it before he could think. He grabbed the blade and put it in her hand. For a brief moment their hands met and he could feel the excitement rushing through her body almost as if her's and his were one. He met her curious eyes, then she was gone, back to dealing with the other girl. Ankhnut went back to his place and watched. Twice was the Princess's weapon thrown and twice he retrieved it for her. At the end of the match, the two girls were sweating and angry. He could almost picture them hissing at each other, like two opposing cats of Bast.
As Anukaten was summoning them away, he was stopped by the Princess's voice. She took off her mask and said, "Thank you, servant of Osiris and Anubis."
"I thought I was the servant of the morning and the evening star," he replied wryly.
"Perhaps, perhaps," the girl replied.
Ankhnut bowed deeply and then turned to leave. He risked a glance back and saw that she was still staring.