Ancient Times Chapter 3


Anck-su-Namun's Chambers:

Anck-su-Namun twisted the paper in her hand, the possibilities whirling in her mind.

She had been cursed by beauty, her mother training her to sell as a bride for a wealthy man since she was old enough for her looks to matter. It wasn't until her twentieth year that pharaoh first glimpsed her, and coveted her. Three years of intense training, some of which against the Princess Nefertiri, had shaped her to be a fitting escort and protector of the old man.

The filthy old man. He could have been old enough to be her father, or grandfather. Yet he wanted her to be his. His only. She was not free even to scratch an itch on her body, being entirely covered in tattoos that smudged at the slightest hint of human contact to ward off any who might try to touch her against the greedy, covetous pharaoh's wishes.

She was not a free woman, not here.

Anck-su-Namun sat up, twisting the paper, rolling it and unrolling it. Never had a man attempted to contact her. She was off limits. She was pharaoh's. And yet…

The advisor, high priest of anubis.

If anyone had the strength to free her from this prison, a loveless dreaded prison covered in kohl and perfume, it would be someone like this…what was his name?

Imhotep.

She thought vaguely of her meetings around the royal court, when pharaoh brought her out to showcase her talents and grace. Anck-su-Namun scoffed, she could choke on grace and talent, it had secured her nothing but miseries. But when she had been brought out…Imhotep had been there.

She closed her eyes and thought, incense stinging her nose as she lay on her bed. For even when she was not called on she had to saturate herself in only the finest oils and incense and perfumes. The scents made her sick.

Imhotep was the one who wore the black during ceremonies to anubis. His head was always clean shaven, and he was not fat or thin or short like the rest of the court. He was healthy and muscular, young but old enough to hold such a high position. Perhaps into his early thirties.

His priests followed him like he was the sun itself, loyalty like that spoke of power.

Now that she thought on it, he was not wholly an unattractive man, had she not once even caught herself staring at him? And had he not stared back? Not that, at the time, she knew his name. She recalled glistening, dark eyes.

Anck-su-Namun opened her almond eyes suddenly, feeling her heart flutter.

This was dangerous.

But the thought of being freed, and living away from pharaoh's eyes and touch was so great when the slave brought her that paper…

She would talk with this Imhotep. At the very least, having risked this much, she could see what sort of man he was. For who could ever stand up to pharaoh, and go against his wishes? What sort of man was that?

It was intriguing. Filled with a hope she tried to suppress she wondered deep in her heart, as she lay in silence, if this man was her path out of a life she had never wanted.

Imhotep's Chambers:

Imhotep paced in his room, the night stars glittering outside his balcony. Night never bothered him, having to serve the lord of the dead, he was used to performing ceremonies at night and he preferred staying up when it was dark out to when it was light.

It was a good time for thinking.

Anck-su-Namun had agreed to meet him. Of course his slave would see what he had predicted, that Anck-su-Namun would first only see his title. But she would meet with him, know his heart, and surely fall as in love with him as he was with her. His title would secure the meeting, while his heart would secure hers.

It was perfect.

Imhotep's plan was starting in motion and he could not be happier or more excited. He should sleep, but that was not going to be possible this night. Not now that she had accepted him.

Imhotep stepped out on the balcony, smiling widely up at the stars in the sky. His prayers and plans were being answered. Soon, the forbidden fruit of pharaoh's orchard would be his.

Anck-su-Namun: The woman whose skin was inlaid with gold, whose hair shone as an oasis's pool at night, whose lips were as plump as a pomegranate. She was lethal like an asp and as graceful as a cobra. She had struck his heart with her venom the moment their eyes caught, and now he must win her…or die.

Imhotep breathed in the Egyptian night, never having before smelled sweeter. As if on wine he gazed at all of Egypt, feeling more powerful than even pharaoh. Though he knew he was not, and to take Anck-su-Namun from him would mean death. Death for the pharaoh or him. Setting his hands on the hard balcony's stone he cared not, tonight he felt more alive than a high priest of death ever could. Oh how deeply he felt emotions, and how carefully expressed they always were. But his smiles, never could he hide them. Humor and pleasure was found in most everything, and tonight was a night for smiling.

She would meet him.

Looking over the city he saw the guards of Thebes walk up and down the streets, fires from torches lit up doorways and the people were still partly awake in the houses below the palace, shown from the glow they emitted with their lights inside. Imhotep's head turned about, taking in the scene before him-a night more beautiful and calm had rarely been seen. Without at first realizing what he was looking at, he found after a moment that his eyes had rested on a figure. Beside the palace wall a figure crouched, half in shadow.

Imhotep frowned, turning his attention to the figure, recognizing something about it.

His slave.

The figure wore the cloth of his Hebrew slave, Katriel. He raised an eyebrow, what was his slave doing out after curfew? Imhotep looked back out to the city, he hardly cared.

From his perch on the balcony Imhotep could see the streets winding through the open palace structure, separating and conjoining wings and buildings of the gigantic stone monument. A couple guards were walking down the street below him. Imhotep watched them vacantly, eyes flickering up to his slave still sitting up against the wall.

She would not see them coming up, a jutting from a building blocking the view from that road where she was.

Imhotep watched the scene now, leaning casually against the balcony railing.

In a minute the guards crossed the jutting and saw the slave. They jogged to her, shout echoing off the walls, "Halt!"

The slave girl finally looked up, noticing them. She wasn't stupid; she didn't run, but lifted wide open palms up in surrender. The guards grabbed her, twisting her arms behind her and marched off in the direction of the guard house. Soon they disappeared out of sight.

Imhotep's expression lifted, life was full of humor and pleasure. His pleasure: Anck-su-Namun. His humor: the slave girl, Katriel. He rolled his eyes up into his head as he closed them, still smiling. He shook his head slightly.

Quite a night.