"He has trampled the tribesmen under his sandals.
The Dwellers of the North bow before his power
All foreign lands fear him…the world is in his hands.
Men are terrified of him, the gods are subject to his love
The one appointed by the god Amun himself."
-The Great Sphinx Stele of Amenhotep II
A-A-A
"Tarry a moment longer, my lady. The strap on your shoe has come loose."
I dropped to one knee beside Tiaa to adjust the leather strap so that it was securely knotted behind her ankle. All the while I could hear the other maidservants giggling behind us. In their eyes I was attempting to curry favors with the queen. A small price to pay for the safety of Pharoah's wife; no one could risk having her stumble in public.
"Thank you, Asenath," said the queen. She gave a fluttering wave of her hand and gestured for me to fall back into line among the other maidservants. As soon as I resumed my place, I felt a sharp pinch between the shoulders and then a kick to the back of my shins. My jaws clamped together with annoyance, but I willed myself not to look at Ahti, the only one taller than I and the one who stood at the end of the line. While we all awaited Yamun's inspection, I mulled over current circumstances.
Three months of service to Tiaa had passed but she had said nothing about keeping or releasing me, only allowing those months to fold into four, then five, and even six. Gradually, my fears of being sent away evaporated but the persistent attacks by Ahti kept me from sinking into blissful relief.
Ahti was clever as she was pretty. She never bullied me outwardly but could make a sly comment as skillful as slipping a blade between the ribs, whispered with such tact that Tiaa didn't notice, and I would turn my head aside to avoid crying or lashing out against her in public. Ahti also kept the other girls from befriending me too much. One or two might bestow a kind word in my direction when Ahti wasn't looking but once she fixed her piercing gaze upon them, they simply ignored me or sniggered at my peculiar habits. I would not giggle or prattle like them, nor did I find pleasure in idle gossip or making sport of others. Moreover, I had learned too well in my childhood of the dangers of ill-used words and so I avoided their useless conversations while overhearing the nicknames they gave me behind my back: "Dumb Priestess", "Silent One", and "Foot-bearer".
"Straighten yourselves up," Yamun commanded us. She chastised one girl for having her wig on crooked and ordered me to let my palms fall flat by my sides. I hadn't noticed they were clenched up until she had mentioned it. Once the formidable woman was satisfied, she stepped aside so that the queen could glide forward in her white robes. We all followed in step behind her through the painted chambers of the palace towards the throne room.
As one of the queen's maidservants, I was several rungs above the common servants and slaves who did most the manual labor. Our duties were mostly to look pleasant, escort the queen wherever she wished, and occasionally fetch her jewels and shawls from the wardrobe. I would have considered it delightfully easy if not for Ahti.
On one occasion I had taken a bite of stew from my bowl and instantly my mouth and nose flared up from an overdose of coriander. The spice withered up my palate and sent me into fits of chocking and coughing. As no one else suffered from the food, the queen presumed I had had some allergic reaction and commanded the court physician to examine me. He doused me with so much warm water and garlic that my bowels ached, and I could not stand before Tiaa for a week.
Another time, I had just woken up and scooped my shoes off the floor. If the scorpion inside the right one had still been alive, my tale would have ended there and then. But the empty black husk landed on the floor with a crisp snap. Nevertheless, I shrieked aloud and the other maidservants tittered with worry. It was possible that a deadly insect could slip across any threshold...but to find one so far inside the palace? And glittering black stark against the white tiles? Surely someone would have noticed it and squashed it. At least I had had the good sense not to instantly thrust my feet into my shoes. From then on, I examined them carefully before putting them on.
All the while Ahti went about her business, treating me with cool indifference if not attempting to bring me discomfort.
Despite Ahti's presence and these two odious events, life was good as a queen's maidservant. We shared in the fine dishes she was served from roasted ducks to figs drenched in wild honeys to rich purple wines. In the mornings we shared a bath infused with myrrh and at dusk had scented oils massaged into our skins. I felt my body growing at ease and healing itself after the plague's decimation. When I undressed at night, the scent of flowers still clung to my garments. I ran my hands through my short thick curls and felt their texture softening beneath my fingertips. My lips grew full and robust as a pomegranate and the chaffed patches of skin soothed themselves away.
I still thought of Joseph every day and did my best to thank God in my heart for restoring some form of beauty to me. I also wished that Joseph could see me for himself, only so that I could bring some light into his eyes and elevate his heart closer to mine.
I could feel the eyes of court upon myself and my fellow maidservants as the flowing blue curtains parted and the queen walked across the dais, then took her seat next to Pharoah's throne. The rest of us would stand during the proceedings of the court, but I had learned how to lightly shift from one leg to another so that my feet would not sleep. I hoped today would bring something more interesting rather than the usual droning on of taxes, land disputes, and quarry projects. Perhaps Joseph would be able to listen to all of this with his keen-eyed alertness, but sometimes I had to pinch myself to focus.
Several other officials came forward, including Urat. I observed him taking a turn around the room to make certain everything was in order before his seat at a table below the dais. His stripped cape had been replaced with an impressive fur cloak adorned with spots of black, white, tan and gold and was clasped at his throat with a jade ox brooch. Nevertheless, he still shuffled about with the fatigue of one who has born too heavy a burden for too long in his lifetime. Resting above his hollow chest was a magnificent necklace composed of twin wings of gold fused together by a large oval of lapis lazuli. This adornment should have expressed his noble position, but the heavy gold seemed to weigh Urat's shoulders down further as much as any iron chains do about the neck of a wretched slave.
Urat coughed and took a sip of wine. Then he raised his hands upwards and clapped four times. "All rise for his glorious eminence, Nefer-Keh-Peru-Re-Amenhotep, the strong warrior bull who is a favorite of both goddesses, the noble king of Thebes!" he called out in a high reedy voice. There was a great shuffling of robes and sandals, of papyrus and glass and stone as everyone rose to his feet.
"Praise be he, behold of the Eye of Horus!" Urat called out. His voice warbled but he continued to speak: "The golden falcon who raises up both crowns of Per-Mont…"
"He'd better stop now before he loses breath," one maidservant whispered next to me. My right cheek twitched with amusement.
"…Master of Ma'at, our sacred keeper of the cosmic justice in this world," Urat finally concluded.
Two slaves drew back white curtains from the back of the room and two more rushed around the throne with their great ostrich-plumed fans clasped tightly in their hands. A man slipped, rather than strode, into the room just as the beams of sunlight through the high windows slanted down upon the throne and all nearby areas. The light hit the bands of gold wrapped around his neck, brow, and even his fingers for all to see him flashing radiantly before us.
This was Pharoah Amenhotep the Second, Lord of the Two Lands.
At the time he was forty-three years old, but robust exercise and fine baths had protected his skin from winkles and blemishes so that his countenance was still that of a healthy and vibrant young man. His face was deeply tanned from weeks of riding horses and leading troops under Ra's vicious sun.
I still preferred Joseph's face above all others, but Pharaoh's striking features drew the eye towards him with an almost supernatural appeal. He was not handsome, but the bearer of the body carried himself with such confidence that he captured the attention of all who looked upon him. He was of average height, slender in arm and leg but with a lean hard torso. Kohl and malachite wreathed his deep-set black eyes and out of each orb shined a small pinprick of animated light. Those eyes were always restless and searching, barely ever closing or showing a hint of fatigue. The eyes were set above a long beaky nose, giving him the air of a predatory bird. The mouth was wide and slender as willow leaves, just parted enough to show small narrow white teeth. It was a cruel sensual mouth, guarding those crocodile teeth and a tongue that could execute a man with swift justice.
Pharoah wore a flowing kilt the color of pale sand that had been starched to perfection and nearly crackled wherever he turned. Around his waist was a wide leather belt, centered with a massive square bearing the golden Eye of Horus and surrounded with small square-cut malachite gems. On his head was the great blue-and-gold striped cap topped with a golden vulture and serpent, signifying his domain over the Upper and Lower Lands. Both animals of prey were wrought of such exquisite detail that I expected the vulture to flap his wings and the serpent to reveal his fangs. Both animals studded small red precious stones in their eyes and the same carnelian gems glittered upon the rings of Pharoah's left hand. Upon his right middle finger was a wide silver ring set with a scarab carved smooth from green feldspar.
Over this impressive entourage, Pharoah wore a great mantle woven of deep-blue cloth, infused with stripes of gold and silver and fringed with tiny pale green threads. It was as if he wore the Nile River itself upon his shoulders. The cloth rippled and glistened as sunlight dances upon the river's waves at dawn. This robe would have looked gaudy on any nobleman, but Pharoah wore it with such ease and confidence that it may have been taken for part of his own skin. Indeed, even as one of the edges began to slip off his narrow shoulder, he merely reached with one jeweled hand and slung the cloth back onto himself with casual elegance. It was this gesture that turned him from deity back into man in my eyes, for the gods have no issues with their wardrobes, of getting sand in their food or dealing with the petty squabbles of men.
Urat was still droning on. "Beautiful in form is he who is unique and him to whom is unique. Let the court bear presence to the son of the sun, divine ruler of Thebes—"
"Let the court be seated," Pharoah cut in. His tone was slightly high with a hint of music in it, but it did not mask the brittle command beneath it.
Pharoah settled himself into his throne and accepted a cup of wine from his cupbearer, while his fan-bearers were already working in careful rhythm to keep their king cool and comfortable without knocking the great headdress off his head. One could sense a sigh of relief as the court resumed into place for today's orders.
"Bring forth the first of today's requests," Pharoah commanded Urat.
For an hour or so we watched Urat pass scroll after scroll before Pharoah's nose while the great king listened to the matters of the kingdom and discussed decisions with his counselors. There was a land dispute between two of the richest farms in the Lower Kingdom, due to the Nile washing away part of the fence between them. Pharoah decided that the farmer who was closer to the water was responsible for mending the fence, but his peer would pay for one third of the repairs.
"Let the delegated official known as Behesu go fourth to the farms and examine the matter," announced Pharoah.
"As Pharoah commands," said Behesu. He stood before his king, bowed to him, and then exited the room.
Next was an audience with an elderly stooped woman who had lost her only son in a recent battle. As her husband had been dead for nine years, she had no other way to support herself and she begged Pharoah for assistance. The scribes drew up the documents confirming the identity of this son, who had been a superb commander in Pharaoh's army.
"A talent of gold for the mother of this brave captain," Pharoah declared. "No more and no less. Now accept this gift from the treasury and return to your home." With glistening eyes and stammering words, the woman blessed Pharoah and left.
Some results were not as pleasing as others. Five quarry men were brought forward and accused of stealing tools from the work sight. Though they denied it, many witnesses were brought in and testified the disappearing tools were noticed after these men took their shifts.
Pharoah's voice did not rise or fall but I was close enough to see his nostrils flare and a mad light glow in each of his eyes. "Think that you can cheat Horus, he who sees all?" he demanded. "Forty lashes for each of them and six months in prison."
The men were dragged away by their heels, leaving Pharoah in a sour mood. He quenched a second and third drink from his goblet, but then turned his head to the queen. She reached over and gingerly laid her fingertips upon his arm, and it seemed to me as though the cloud wreathing Pharoah's head was dispersing.
"Great Pharoah, your father and his father before him had at least five monuments build for their legacies' sake," another quarry man went on. "Only two have been built for your glory. If it pleases Pharoah, let another three thousand slaves be brought from the western lands to continue construction so that your name will be raised high among them."
"Hmm." Pharoah leaned back in his throne and let two fingers trailing lightly down his throat. "What are these monuments built of?"
"Granite, great Pharoah," he announced proudly.
"Granite is more difficult to work with than other common stones, is it not?" demanded Pharoah. The quarry man agreed, explaining that the granite buildings would last far longer and thereby preserve Pharoah's legacy.
Pharoah's fingers deftly twirled his staff. He leaned over and whispered something to the queen that none of us could hear. Then he sat back and asked Urat, "What is the condition after the plague has run through Denderah and Nagada?"
"There are six bridges that require repairs and eight walls to be resealed," Urat told him. "But slaves can do this as well as create four more granite monuments," he added diplomatically.
"Indeed. And while slaves build my face up to match that of my fathers, the bridges remain collapsed and the walls remain damaged," Pharoah answered dryly. He and the queen exchanged a silent look and his fingers drummed lightly upon the arm of his throne. Finally, a conclusion was formed.
With a sweep of his blue robes, Pharoah rose from his throne and the fan-bearers both hastily stepped back.
"Now hear this!" he called aloud. "While Pharoah resides in a palace of limestone and alabaster, his people reside in fear and discontent. The farmer cannot transport his grain to the market and the soldier cannot protect his post. The stonemason is unable to take his stone up the river while the metalsmith is hindered from sending his crafts down the river."
"It is Pharoah's will that the people of this land be attended to first and foremost. Therefore, cease all construction upon the monuments in Armant at once. Our cracked temples will be repaired, our broken bridges will be replaced with better ones, and the eight walls will be restored to eight glorious pillars of security throughout Egypt. Let it be known that Pharoah Amenhotep will not only replenish this land but elevate it to greater heights than my fathers could ever imagine!"
Great applause burst out in the court and we servants also praised Pharoah as well for his generosity. Urat still reminded his king with ever-so-subtle words of the need to preserving his legacy. I watched the queen intervened with gentle wisdom.
"If it pleases Pharoah, let a black obelisk be set upon the head of every mended bridge," she suggested. "Let the name of great Pharoah Amenhotep be carved into each obelisk so that every man who crosses the bridge will be aware of the source of this benevolence."
Pharaoh's lips parted to reveal a crescent moon smile that was sharp around the edges, but it brought a warm glow to the queens' face. "As my queen advises," he said. "Let it be said and let it be written. Let obelisks stand by every repair so that all will know Amenhotep's glory from one end of the kingdom to the other."
Further architects and delegates were commanded to being the great task of restorations before Pharoah had them dismissed. And then came the most impressive part of the day: tributes from other lands.
Even Pharoah brightened up as he accepted more wine and gallantly greeted all the newcomers who came through the doors. I gaped to see the strange men and women paraded before him. Kushites with deep-black skin and heavy gold rings in their ears came forwarded and prostrated themselves before Pharoah, bearing heavy fur rugs of animals with thick and thin stripes and glowing spots upon their surfaces. Next came Jebusites in ankle-length kilts woven in bright shades of green, yellow and red. They humbly requested Pharoah cease all attacks upon their lands and produced boxes of silver pitchers, platters heaped high with jewelry, and heavy jugs brimming with exotic wines.
Pharaoh dealt more haughtily with these men, as Urat recalled how some Jebusites had foolishly attempted a raid on Egypt's temples two years ago before being decimated by Pharoah's army. They would have to do some more stooping and groveling to get back into Pharoah's graces, but these gifts were a start.
My eyes took in other officials from far-off countries, some with long curling hair and blue-black hair, others with short yellow curls, fair as flax and round as the sun. A group of Ammonites wore impressive bright feathers in their hair and lavish woven belts around their waists. One of them removed his jeweled buckle and offered it directly to the queen, who accepted it with compliments while a translator conveyed gratitude to the man.
But the most impressive sight that day was the troop of animals brought in to enhance Pharoah's menagerie. My own cries of wonder were drowned out by the court's delight as two remarkable beasts were brought in. I never saw such long skinny necks or such bright red spots upon white skin before, but they all walked on four legs with the grace of gazelles while the gift-bearer explained these giraffes could reach food upon the highest branches.
A panther on a leather chain was next. He seemed docile at first but then gave a sudden scramble, snarling and baring his teeth as his nails lashed against the floor. The queen gasped and recoiled in her chair and I'm sure a few of us let out a scream. But Pharoah was not put off. He just laughed and ordered the panther to be put far away from the cages of wild birds. He was even more impressed with the dozen fine horses brought forward, great handsome beasts with long shanks and restless breath in their nostrils. The gift-bearer assured Pharoah they were broken in and would mate well with other breeds to give the king the finest four-legged soldiers he required.
The day would have concluded merrily had a messenger not rushed forward and whisper something into Urat's ear. A gray countenance seemed to settle around him as he ushered the dignitaries and their gifts out of the room.
"Forgive me, great Pharoah. But an atrocity has been committed."
They merry entourage ceased, and all tribute-givers were swept out of the throne room. Brightness remained but a sinister heat seemed to settle in the atmosphere. The doors burst open, and guards dragged in two dusty-looking men with blood still streaming from their temples.
"They were found leaving the tomb of Apet-Na," said one of the soldiers.
The queen's face blanched and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. I too felt a shiver of worry go down my spine as I recalled the name Apet-Na; mother of Amenhotep's father.
All the ease in Pharoah's face had gone out and now he was cold and rigid as a statue. He watched the soldiers turn out the contents of the thieves' sacks. Two gold cups banged loudly on the floor with some heavy pieces of white substance I could not identity. They clacked loudly against the ground before one soldier picked it up and held it high for all to see.
"Can Pharoah identify this?" he called out.
Pharoah starred at the piece thoughtfully, then he spoke in a soft dangerous voice. "It is the ivory base of Apet-Na's chair. My father did tell me how she would sit in it, and he would come to her as a child, and she would raise him up into her arms."
His eyes flashed as he looked down at the thieves. "You dared to violate the tomb of my grandmother?!" his voice rose to a crackly pitch.
"Mercy, great Pharoah!" one of them begged. "We did not know it was such a great tomb. It was dark—very dark! We only—"
"Silence!" thundered Pharoah. His voice rang out over the length of the courtroom, which had become eerily quiet. "There is no penance you can do for such a crime."
The thieves threw themselves upon their faces, begging Pharoah to punish them accordingly. They would be beaten, they would gladly slave away in the quarry, if only to be spared the ultimate punishment. But Pharoah would not be appeased this time.
"Death," he commanded. "They will both be beheaded at dawn. Let their corpses be cut into pieces and thrown to the birds."
The courtroom went silent as a tomb. One of the thieves threw a glance my way but I could not meet the white glaze of his eyes and had to look aside.
"Mercy! Mercy, great Pharoah!" he screamed as he was dragged out of the room. The doors slammed shut behind him and his pitiful companion.
No one said a word. Even Urat and the queen dared not flinch in this great hour of judgement.
"The court is adjourned," Pharoah declared at last. He rose from his seat and gestured for the queen to follow him out of the room. She complied with the meek obedience of a dutiful child.
A-A-A
The verdict of death left a shadow on my shoulders, despite the bright sunniness of a leisure afternoon.
This was one of those days where we maidservants could do as we liked for several hours until the queen summoned us again. Some of them sat in a corner of one lavish room to eat sweets, others went swimming in the pool by the palace. On some occasions they went to one of the local markets or flirted with the guards.
I had nothing to spend at the markets. Only the ornaments I wore and the shoes on my feet were mine; everything else I had was a possession of Tia's. Nor did I find the guards of any interest. But I had other ways of making the most of my time and preoccupying my troubled mind.
"Greet every person with a cheerful countenance. Inquire after their welfare."
Within half an hour I had left the queen's wing and entered the royal kitchens. Six men were pounding dough and three others were sitting at a table drinking beer with some of the female servants.
"Here comes Asenath, handmaiden of the queen come to grace our presence!" he called out, making room for me at the bench. Another fellow offered me a cup of beer. I thanked him and asked Menes if his son's cough was any better.
"A little bit," said Menes. "The physician said to keep him well-covered and keep applying cool compresses to his head.
"What he needs is my aunt's remedy," a woman intervened. "She knew better than any physician. You take two handful of hippopotamus fat and melt that down in a shallow pan. Then mix with pounded hyssop—mind you, fresh hyssop—and smear on his chest three times daily."
"My father claims a hot cup of onion broth gargled every day cleared out his throat," someone else insisted.
"Was that before or after your mother turned away from his foul breath?" another asked.
Everyone had a good laugh at that. Then I told them about the great gifts of the court, the dignitaries who paid tribute, and the new bridges that would be fixed.
"That's all fine and well but I doubt if Urat will live long enough to see it happen," said Menes. "The fellow is nearly eight-five years old!"
"And may he live many more years," said the first woman. "His body may be failing him, but Pharoah will have to search high and low for a replacement that can match Urat's competence."
I leaned in closer, intrigued to her what else she had to say. "Urat has served Pharoah and his father before him because in all of his years, he has never taken more than his share of reward for his services—not even a shoe strap," the woman went on. "Not a word of disloyalty has ever passed his lips. Once Urat enters the afterlife, the rest of the officials will be falling over themselves in the hopes of becoming the next viceroy."
"Are there any adequate candidates?" I asked her.
She shrugged and snorted. "If only ma'at would form a man half as competent as Urat! There are a few princes who would lick their chops at the thought of becoming viceroy, but they are such spoiled pups that they'd spend their nights going to parties and their days nursing headaches from two much wine."
"What about Behesu?" I went on. "He seems clever enough to manage land disputes."
"Behesu settles disputes with an extra gift or two in his pocket," said Menes. "And Nane his cousin has a weakness for women. Everyone knows he leaves his wife at least twice a week to go to the brothels in town. You need not widen your eyes so far, Asenath. We who clean the rooms and wipe up messes see everything that occurs in the dead of the night and the whispers behind closed doors."
Menes was right; he and his crew were an army of secret-gathers who knew everything that people were too ashamed to say in public. And Behesu might be able to get away with an occasional bribe, but such corruption on a large scale would be disastrous. Nor would I trust the role of viceroy to a man accustomed to slipping away into other women's bed.
The conversation was interrupted when Pharoah's cupbearer shuffled into the kitchen. He was a gaunt lanky man with baggy eyes and a dropping chin, not to mention a neck that constantly bobbed downward from endless days of serving Pharoah his drink. He nodded to the other servants but upon seeing me at the table, mumbled and hastily gathered up two more jugs before fleeing the room.
Menes whirled on me with a wrinkled brow. "Confound it, girl. What have you done to set him on edge?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "Perhaps I frightened him."
I confess that wasn't the full truth. As soon as I heard the cupbearer had been released from a stint in prison, I waited for a time when he was alone to approach him. I did my best to politely inquire if he had known about a Semite slave in the prison and gave him a full description of Joseph. The cupbearer responded by turning blue in the face and stammering like a fish on the shore. He mumbled that he and his fellow cellmate had never been in Ombos nor did he know any Semite. The cupbearer been sent to the prison in Karnak, which was on the outskirts of Thebes.
I was disappointed to hear this and almost forgot that the cupbearer had fled my presence. Perhaps I had rattled him too hard from my words. Who could blame him from nearly escaping the hangman's noose? His cellmate had not been so fortunate. I had meant to apologize to the cupbearer but three times I tried to approach him and three times he turned his head downward and shuffled back to Pharoah. Perhaps it was just worth giving up the effort…
"Asenath, are you listening?" Menes asked. His words brought me back to the presence.
"I am sorry. My thoughts distracted me."
"As I was saying, people don't like to be reminded of time spent in a rotting cell. Now that that fellow has been reinstated, I suggest you leave the event in the past."
I agreed with his advice.
"Now, back to the matter of coughing," said the other servant. "Good-quality cinnamon bark is rarer. But if you can get some of that, grind it up with a mouthful of honey. Then you stir it into strong brown beer and let it boil for—"
"Don't you have anything better to do than sit there wagging your tongues?" barked a lady. Everyone jumped to attention and got off the table—including me.
Pharoah's newest baker was cut from the same cloth as Yamun. She lifted a mass of heavy dough out of a vat and began to pound it on the table. I would have been more impressed if our last encounter hadn't ended so poorly. At the time I had suggested to her Weret's delicious fish recipe, but the baker nearly swelled up with rage.
"What?! Serve Pharoah oily fish doused in stale breadcrumbs?" she had bellowed in my face. "I would rather have my body raked with iron combs than concoct such an abomination."
Now she looked up from her pounding and shook a fist in my direction. "Out with you, maidservant! The kitchens are no place for idle gossip!" she snapped.
I seized my skirts and fled out of the kitchen as fast as the cupbearer did. Odious she could be, but who could blame her for stringency when the last baker of Pharoah had been hanged in the courtyard like common criminal?
A-A-A
After a visit to the stables (the odors alone make it a brief encounter) I took a fresh jug of beer and brought it out the gardens. Square after square of immaculate green shrubs seemed to run on as far as the eye could see while poppies and cornflowers bloomed to my right. There were four men there, and they thanked me kindly for the drink while I was able to inquire after their well-beings too. The lettuce had come up somewhat bitter this year, but the roses were quite admirable. One suggested I bring some back to the queen and I agreed to do so when the heat of the day had resided a little so that they wouldn't wilt promptly.
Another man gave me four radishes for my teeth and a gourd, which he said had ripe sweet flesh that was good for eating. I did not wish to stay too long and appear overly friendly, moreover it was the fifteenth day of the month. So, I bid the gardeners well and came to my last and favorite part of the day: seeing Beka.
Ever since I entered the palace, Beka had arranged for us to meet outside the southern gate every fifteen days. At first, I attempted to dissuade him thinking of the pain it must cause in his wounded leg. But he was persistent and assured me it gave a common gate-guard a welcomed excuse away from the young fools he worked with daily. Beka added that it was an ideal arrangement that suited him, as he was able to report back to Weret and assure her that I was well. As Weret did not have the time or stamina to come to the palace, she was delighted with Beka's report and would give him a good meal before he returned to his duties.
Despite, or perhaps because of Beka's gruff manners, I had come to respect of him. He had none of Potiphar's lofty airs or Phera's smooth talk; Beka was hard as cedar wood and sharp as salt. He had once asked me if my heart was spoken for and when I merely nodded that it was, he sealed his lips on the matter and never spoke of it again. Since then, he had assumed the role of a concerned guardian and I was grateful to know someone else was looking out for me. Moreover, this grizzly former soldier had wisdom and experience.
By the time I arrived at the southern gate, Beka was leaning into the shade and gnawing on a small green onion. He told me it was supposed to improve the complexion. And while it did nothing to improve his facial appearance, at least his teeth looked picked-clean and white.
"Harumph!" he grunted. "Tell me, Asenath. Don't you have some magical prayer or incantation to make my skin smooth again?"
It would take more than that to soothe your cobbled nature, I thought. Aloud I said, "I have no such power within me, Beka. But you have smoothed roads ahead and that is praiseworthy for one of Pharoah's guards."
"I would rather have a handsome face and a gold chariot to ride in," he said. "But at least guards have their benefits." He took out a juicy green melon from his basket and I showed him the gourd. Beka used his knife to cut both open, scoop out the innards, and soon we made a refreshing meal as we sat in the cool shadows enjoying both fruits.
While we ate, I told Beka in great details about the monuments, obelisks, gifts, and tributes. Beka bobbed his head as he listened and then put in his own word or two.
"Is it not generous of Pharoah to fix all the roads and bridges first?" I asked him.
"Generous! Ah yes, it is," he agreed even as his eyes narrowed keenly. "And shrewd too. He will be saving the kingdom much tax money if he focuses on the bridges rather than granite tombs, for the more business that flows through it, the more wealth will accumulate."
"Then it benefits Pharoah as much as us?"
"Why should it not?" he let out a short bark of a laugh. Regarding the viceroy, he agreed that Urat would have to die one day but put in his opinion that Pharoah should not wait until then to find a replacement.
"Behesu, I have heard of that one," Beka added thoughtfully. "It is said no sooner does money go into his pouch then it bleeds out the other end. Pharoah might do better with this Nane cousin."
"I hope not," I said of my own free will, and rather hotly. Beka asked me way and I told him about the women. To this he shrugged. "I do not like it anymore than you do, but that is the lesser of two bad things."
"Even if the new viceroy takes a new woman to bed every night?" I insisted, feeling heat stir in my chest.
Beka shrugged. "Better he taints the bedchamber rather than Pharoah's treasuries and armies."
I felt my throat contract. "But if a man cannot keep his hands off any woman, what will stop him from laying his hands upon Pharoah's treasures? Or his horses? Or the queen?" I asked with fevered concern.
The guard gave me a sharp curious look. "Why so agitated, Asenath?"
I gulped and clamped a hand to my mouth, afraid that I had spilled out too much of my past. "It is only-I do not want to risk having the queen shamed or defiled." Not only, I thought guiltily.
He scratched his jawline thoughtfully. "A point worth considering," Beka said at last. "But think you that Nane would be so foolish as to invade the queen's bedchamber? Even at the risk of death?"
"I do not know Nane personally so I cannot say," I relented. "Perhaps I spoke in haste."
"Haste, yes. But with good intent. Your opinion confirms what I have also thought: that Pharoah must find a man who is already disciplined in good habits. Otherwise, a poor viceroy will just bring his bad behaviors into the palace. A man would have to be mad to attempt an assault on the queen but Asenath, a man's desires can drive him to rash actions."
"So can a woman," I added under my breath.
I was thinking of Zulekia, but Beka asked, "What, has Ahti gotten herself with child by one the guards?"
I nearly chocked on fruit juice and managed a good laugh at that. Because I had to compose myself in the palace at all times, Beka was the one person I could unleash all of my frustrations to. I had told him that we knew each other in Potiphar's house and how she had launched a campaign to irritate me, no doubt until I had had enough to leave the place for good. Beka knew how much Ahti irked me, or as he put it, I let her irk me.
"I will never understand women until the day I die," said Beka. He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned leisurely against the wall. "A man can punch another man in the face, laugh with his opponent, and then buy him a cup of beer and befriend him all in the same day. A woman makes one gibe and remembers her adversary years ago. Why so spiteful?"
"Women have not the strength of men to bruise and bleed our opponents," I explained to Beka. "Our tongues become our swords. A clever woman can utter words that permanently damage her rival, for gossip and accusations take far longer to heal than ordinary bruises." If they heal at all.
"Then you must sharpen your tongue but safeguard it as a sword is sheathed," he advised me. "Be prudent with your enemy. If you must meet her on the battlefield, first inquire as to the nature of the debate. You two grew up under the same roof and now reside in the shade of Pharoah's benevolence. Why worth forsaking that peace and happiness because of something that happened years ago?"
I admitted it did seem illogical once Beka put it so. And I was aware that all this time I had been evading Ahti, rather than encountering her head-on. Perhaps it was time that I did so.
The sun was shifting from the leisure afternoon hours and Beka said he would have to go soon. But I quickly told him about the tomb thieves and the vicious death that awaited them. In the eyes of all Egyptians, the punishment would be everlasting for the evildoers. Because if their bodies were destroyed, there would be nothing to preserve the for the afterlife. They would suffer indefinitely in darkness and chaos.
I still shuddered to think about it as Beka slung his arms over his knees. "You were a priestess. You know of Pharoah and ma'at. Harsh as his edicts may seem, it is better to discipline a few harshly than have the entire kingdom plunged into chaos."
"I know—" I began. But Beka intervened. "You do not know," he said darkly. "You do not know what men are like when they do not obey laws. Without ma'at, a man would swallow his neighbor alive. I have not only seen such things but heard things that would turn your blood into water."
"What things?" I asked several times. Beka showed reluctance at first but then agreed to slack my thirst with a story.
"I like stories," said I brightly.
"You will not like this one," he cautioned me. "But better I tell it and you learn something than you learn nothing at all. Now keep your tongue still while I speak." I agreed to be quiet, my interest outweighing any impending fears I had of this story.
Beka discarded the rinds of the fruit and began his tale.
"You will recall that my mother went into the afterlife when I was, but a babe and it was only my father and I in the household until a Midianite slave earned his heart. From the time I was three until six, I disliked my stepmother. There was no logical reason for it; I simply disliked being told what to do by her. I thought her beneath my father. But my father commanded me to respect her and so I did so, thought sulkily and at a distance. I learned to ask for permission before entering her kitchen and to wash my feet so that I did not track mud into the house.
"Gradually, my foolish ways began to wash away, and I came to tolerate and then respect my stepmother. I would bid her good morning and ask if she wanted her knives sharpened or a pot washed out. She would thank me for the task and give me a sweet date cake or some squeezed juice, or if she was busy would ask me to go out and play so that she could get her work done. And then if I was very good, she would put me on her knee and tell me stories about her homeland.
"There were rumors and whispers among her people of the many gods and of One who was mightier than all the rest and as old as the universe itself. It was said He could sleep for centuries but would wake up and strike down men whenever their wickedness filled the earth like water filled to the brim of cup. The ancient One was known to have flooded the entire world save for a man who build a floating box and another time He twisted the tongues of men who dared to attempt to build a palace up to meet Him."
Beka stopped his tale long enough to see if I was interested. I was more than that—I was enthralled. And I was keeping my tongue lodged between my teeth so that I could not cry out and tell him I knew these tales as well. It was good I kept still or else I might have bit my tongue in half.
"My stepmother said this story spun out of the earth decades before she was even born but she still heard the stories about the nomad. She never knew his name; he was just 'the Nomad' who left his father's home in the silt fields of Or Kasdim. He took with him his wife and brother's son and all three of them crossed the mighty Yarden River into a new land. What the Nomad was seeking, few knew. Some said the Nomad was looking for the One God as old as time itself. Others said he was merely escaping a famine. Some said he was a wealthy man seeking pastures for his flocks.
"Whatever the reason, the Nomad ceased traveling when a feud occurred with his nephew. He generously offered the boy to pick his own path to settle in life and the Nomad would go the opposite direction, so as not to invade his nephew's lands. The nephew was clever and choose a rich city nestled in the plains near the Yarden River itself. It is not half the size of the Nile thought its water were indeed sweet and kept the lands bountiful and flourishing.
"I say 'were' for that is not the way things are now. The city was S'dom, and the men of the city were wildly and madly corrupt. They stole beans out of each other's baskets and bricks out of one another's walls. They ripped up paving stones and plundered each neighbor's tomb. No woman dared stray out of her house after sunset or she would be violated, if not thrashed to death. There was no Pharoah, prince, or king to dispense justice and the courts were so crooked, they made things worse by sentencing innocent men to death and letting murderers roam free.
"One might ask why any sane person would reside in such a city. But my stepmother said if you tasted the waters of the Yarden and felt the rich soft grass beneath your fingertips, the sweetness was sufficient to mask the bitterness and madness of the city. Or perhaps the citizens' senses all grew dull and dimmed to decency and they were no longer men but stupid dumb animals who followed one another into calamity.
"The Nomad was saddened by the wickedness of S'dom and begged the God he sought not to punish them all, for the sake of a handful of righteous people that could have been in the city. And so, He waited…waited for them to repent.
"To ensure that no on else would invade their bountiful lands, travelers were forbidden in S'dom. Beggars were put to death. But somehow, one day, a poor cripple stumbled his way into the city. He would have been better off dying in the wilderness. But near starvation, the cripple thought someone would toss him a rotten piece of fish or bread. He waited by the well for something to happen but everyone who came ignored him. Finally, he begged a girl for a few drops of water from her jug.
"She sneered at him and turned into her house. Then after some time she came back out, spit into the jar she was carrying, and shoved it into him with a laugh. The cripple was overjoyed to find the jug now held a few pieces of bread and he devoured those with tears in his eyes. But neighborhood spies had witnessed the encounter and had the girl arrested. She was dragged before the courts and flogged until at last, she broke down into tears and confessed that she had poured out the water from her jug and replaced it with bread.
"The head of the council declared, 'Death by water is appropriate for this crime'. But a more cunning councilman intervened. 'Drowning is too quick for this girl. The punishment must be slower to show a good example to all residence of the town. For a girl of such a sweet naïve nature, only thing must be done'. The girl was taken out to the roof of the highest tower and stripped of all of her garments. She was tied to a stake and the nectar of date honey smeared all over her body. Her screams rang out across the town, but no ear could hear her, no eye grew moist as the bees stung her to death.
"But my stepmother said these screamed pierced the iron gates that guard the sapphire throne of the Ancient One. There was no more waiting. His wrath was kindled and no flood on earth could quench His judgement. On a warm spring night, the skies turned to ash and fire mixed with sulfur rained down from the clouds. The walls consumed themselves in the flames and the sulfur burned everyone's eyes in their sockets and shriveled up their tongues in their mouths. They fell over each other in blind agony as the walls collapsed around them and buried them alive.
"It was said that the Nomad's nephew fled with his daughters and those offspring grew into proud wild tribes. But his wife still looked behind and a rock of salt struck her body, eating the flesh off her bones and turning her into a while obelisk of salt herself. To this day, the Yarden River still flows sweetly in the north where it is kissed by the Lake of Harps. But as it turns south, the land becomes sour and arid.
"Nowadays the place of S'dom is empty. There are no houses, wells, roads, or fields signifying there ever was a city. The land is full of sticky mudpits that still belch out sulfur and salt. There is a vast pool full of tears of that girl, so salty that no fish or living thing can grow into it. To put your hand into it is to feel heat and oil and stinging tears that should never have been shed.
Beka concluded his tale and looked directly into my face.
"I have never seen that accursed land and I thank Pharoah that I never will," he concluded solemnly. "But my stepmother said when she was a maiden, her caravan rode hastily past that place. She remembers seeing a jagged white pillar standing on a rock, all bent and mourning beneath a dry summer sky."
My hands were trembling violently from his story. I put them to my face and found it damp from weeping.
A-A-A
I had little appetite that night and was quieter than ever. I felt weak and worn out from Beka's rendition of Joseph's story. The latter had taken out all the gory details when I had been a child. Beka explained to me that these details were necessary to teach us that consequences would follow those who did not follow laws—and that Egypt's laws would keep us from being overturned like that wretched S'dom.
"Nor do I ever desire to awaken the wrath of the Ancient One," he told me before leaving the palace gate.
Tiaa asked me if I was well, and all I could do was smile weakly and tell her I was feeling tired. "It has been a lively day indeed," she agreed. No musicians would be summoned that night. If Tiaa retired early, so would all of us.
I dreaded going to bed but as nothing else could scare me that evening, I took advantage of the time to approach Ahti. "Peace unto you," I said. She grunted and just folded a blanket in half.
I persisted. "Ahti, you and I broke bread in the same house. We slept beneath the same roof and had the same patron. Can we not put the past aside and live in harmony moving forward?"
She threw down the blanket and glowered at me, hands on her hips. "Harmony? What harmony could a little asp like you possibly give? You poison everyone around you," Ahti snarled. Her teeth had become bared like an angry animal and her eyes sparkled with wrath. It seemed everything she had been holding in had finally broken as a dam burst and now all her anger was pouring out like sulfur.
"You caused Potiphar and Zulekia to perish before their time," she accused me, sticking a finger into my chest.
I starred dumbstruck at Ahti, more astonished than angry. "My fault? How could I do such things?"
"You deny your crimes? Very well. I will tell you all that happened," she fumed onward. "After you left the estate and gave Zulekia that evil look from the donkey cart, I was certain you had cursed us all. But on the contrary, all was well—for a time. The barley rose like silver and the wheat like gold. Potiphar's wealth doubled and then tripled in size. He had a stable with a dozen horses and Zulekia had two new fountains put in. Wine and honey flowed freely from the house. Patrons and nobles came every week to laud Potiphar and praise his vast wealth.
"Then Potiphar went hunting with his manservants. His horse must have stumbled over a rock, but he was sent flying from his animal and landed on the ground. The impact broke his neck at once. With no heir to his name, the estate and all of the neighboring lands went to Zulekia. She was clever, she was cunning. Whatever she spent, she got back twice as much. Lords paid homage to her in the hopes of marrying her, but she enjoyed being a rich widow. Nothing was too good for her; she had the best food, clothing, and music that was only second to Tiaa. Tables groaned under the weights of all the food and endless musicians paraded in and out of her doors with new songs for every day. We had parties every night and fires that burned until dawn. The estate was brimming with laughter and bliss that overflowed from one day to the next..."
Ahti sighed in bliss for a moment, recalling a good time. All the while I dared not interrupt her, even though I had also heard about Potiphar and his horse before. Then her scowl returned, and she continued her story.
"All was well for three years. But then the fields didn't flood as much, and the barley was meager. Zulekia slaughtered two calves to Amun-Ra and assured us that the appeasement would bring in a better harvest next year.
"Then, overnight, a black hand stretched into the estate. I woke to hear coughing and vomiting and saw half the servants were writhing in pain in their beds. By the next day they were dead—the strongest of all of us, including the guards and manservants. We feared Amun-Ra was still angry and begged Zulekia to make more sacrifices. She refused and slapped each of us on the cheek. She forbade us to leave the estate and threatened anyone who dared to flee.
"Then Zulekia began to complain of stomach pains. She feared being poisoned and ate little food. A food-taster was summoned and though he could confirm every morsel was perfectly safe, Zulekia took no more than a few scraps every day. Within three weeks she was wasting away to bones. In the fourth week, I found her muttering and walking aimlessly around the estate, wringing her hands. I could hear her footsteps scuffling across the floor at night. She looked frazzled and distracted, lost in her own world. Then one night, the wheat fields caught fire. There weren't enough hands to put it out and so it spread and consumed everything in its path. Within three hours, there was nothing left. Everyone seized whatever riches were in the house and fled. I would have gone too, but I saw my lady standing on the roof of the house with her flaming fields at her feet.
"I begged her to come down, but she took no notice of me. She was wearing no garments but was adorned with all of her jewelry, with bangles and necklaces all piled around her arms and neck like glittering snakes. Zulekia had ceased her mumbling and was now talking loudly and clearly to the smoggy clouds around her.
"'Do you see me now, Joseph?' she cried out. 'Did you think a prison would contain my burning passion for you? See how it scorches the earth, see how it encompasses man and beast alive! You thought you could beat me yet, but here I am at last! You have taken my husband from me; you have taken my wealth and my home. But you will never take my love from you, not in ten thousand years!'
'Never!' she screamed with laugh. 'Never, Joseph! Oh, my sweet one! My precious Semite! If I cannot have you then no one will. Not in this life or the afterlife! There will be no one else but you, my love! Oh, Joseph! Joseph!'
"With his name on her lips, Zulekia stepped off the balcony and sank like a stone. I saw her head crack open like a melon and the insides spill onto the threshold. She breathed no more…."
Ahti's words died off and she gulped for air to end her tale. I reached out a hand to her, but she drew back as though I was a cobra.
"Stay back!" she warned me. "Are you satisfied at last? Your evil eye and your Semite's curse have worked at last. I finally had the strength to flee the estate that day, though I was never free from you. But at least I will no longer be afraid!"
Ahti unfastened the front of her dress to reveal an amulet hanging from her throat. It was another Eye of Horus, though crudely wrought of red paint on a misshapen piece of wood. I failed to see how this clumsy trinket had any bearing on me, but Ahti persisted.
"Behold, the great Eye of Horus. Praise Horus!" she exclaimed. "He will protect me from the evil eye of misfortune that you cast upon us. I knew those eyes of your would punish us someday. Who can trust a girl with flecks of sun in the darkness of her gaze? Or a smooth-lipped Semite who buries fields in poisoned blessings?"
She tucked the amulet back into her dress while I gathered my words together. "Ahti, I speak sincerely when I say that I sorry for the distress you have endured," I began firmly. "But I swear by Pharoah's life that I have no special powers, no blessings or gifts from the gods to curse anyone. I had no intent to cause the estate to fall. My anger was only directed at Zulekia for driving me out. I wish you no ill will."
"I don't believe you," she insisted flatly.
"Believe what you will. I only want to live and serve the queen," I said sincerely.
"Liar."
I sighed. Clearly, we were getting nowhere, and I didn't want to spend the rest of the night attempting to soothe Ahti. I would just have to tell Beka that I did my best and I would try to avoid Ahti as much as possible.
"Then there is nothing more to say on the matter," I decided at last. I was ready to seal my lips and end the conversation when Ahti said something that struck me like a stone to the head.
"Where is he?"
"Who?" I asked coolly.
"You know who, you accursed girl."
My limbs stiffened. I whirled on Ahti and attempted to keep my voice under control. "Why would I know anything about a slave from years ago?"
"Your face betrays you, Asenath. I remember how you used to take lesson from him. You two would put your heads together and whisper and smile over secrets only you knew. You fawned over him as though he was a fair young sun god."
She was prodding me, testing me. I could not let my emotions betray Joseph to Ahti. It would be too easy for her to whisper into Tiaa's ear and then from Tiaa to Pharoah and then-
She must not know. I shrugged and attempted a flippant gesture. "As I recall, Joseph was sentenced to death for sporting with Zulekia. You told me the verdict yourself."
"So I did," she agreed. But then she strode towards me and spoke in a low heated tone, "But could he cheat death?"
In my there burned the image of Joseph in his prison, crouched over a tiny flickering lamp as he scratched diligently with his pen. I had heard nothing from him for half a year. But I knew, I just knew as I surely as knew the day I left the estate and the day I came to the palace. I was aware of the cool whisper of wisdom that was breathing within me, assuring me that he remained on his path—as I was on my own.
A slave is insignificant in Egypt. He can be replaced by twenty men in a day. And a Semite is less than that. And one who renounces Amun-Ra and clings to one God who rules all is nothing to Ahti.
"He is gone," I said boldly to her face.
I watched her eyes flicker to and fro, her face twitching restlessly for validation.
"Is he?" she demanded.
I repeated firmly: "Joseph is gone."
This seemed to appease Ahti. She didn't look relieved, but she just snorted and flicked her blanket in my face. Then she flounced off to bed.
That evening I had not a dream but a nightmare. In my mind I was back in Ombos and carrying a heavy jar tucked under my arm. Through the wooden slates of his cell, I could see Joseph's face, calm and expressionless as ever.
"Here," I extended the jar to him. "This jar contains the light of a thousand stars and the moon's soothing glow. Use it to build yourself a ladder and climb out of this prison."
Before Joseph could accept the jar, Ahti suddenly appeared. She did not smile or laugh, but only plucked the jar out of my hands. Her face was blank as Joseph's. She calmly pried it open and then raising it over my head, poured the contents out. Instead of cool silvery light, it was a stream of fire and honey that touched my body and seared my skin. I was screaming and wailing from the burning sticky heat until everything crashed around me.
I woke up in a fearful sweat, gasping for air and clawing frantically in the dark.
A-A-A
Sleep continued to evade me that night. I flipped myself over and over in bed until I finally decided to rose and walk about the palace. Taking a cupped light in my hand, I exited the room and made my way into the main sanctuary.
I encountered no guards and spoke to no officials as I walked down the corridors of the palace. The temple lights still burned in clay bowls and sent tall beams of pale red light up the walls, briefly illuminating the pictures before darkness swallowed them up again. The wind that brushed against my skin and the sounds of my feet padding against the stone flour felt loud in my ears. There was something sensational, even delicious about walking about at night while all others were in their gardens of dreams. I felt no fear, only relief to be awake and further away from my nightmares.
One room ended in a staircase that took my footsteps up to a new wing I did not recognize. If I encountered a guard, I could explain I had wandered in by accident. But for now, no one hindered my path. At last I approached two towering black pillars formed in the image of Anubis that rose before me, the long tapering ears shod with gold and the kilt glowing dark green in the night. I knew they would neither hinder nor urge my path forward and decided this was a good place to stop.
I set my bowl with the lighted wick upon the floor and sat down next to it, my hands on my knees as I stared up at Anubis and his twin.
There was a time when this jackal-headed deity would have driven fear into my heart. The presence remained intimidating, but now I was able to see Anubis for what he was: a mute sentient. Handsome and dignified to be sure, but now I began to wonder when he too would perish. We mortals would all be laid down to sleep with our ancestors after a hundred years or so, but what of stone and granite? Would they not begin to show a crack or crease after a century or two? Could they withstand the ever-blowing power of wind and the endless strength of the sun?
And if so, was it not the God of the World who blew breath around the world and sent the fiery sun to wear down on flesh and stone alike?
How peculiar that these musings should come to me in the most unlikely hour of the night!
The night air flitted in through the palace and brushed soothingly against the back of my shoulders. I could feel my thoughts began to settle as I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked back and forth slightly. I sat there in silence for some time, perhaps for half and hour, taking in the stillness of the stones around me.
Finally, I tilted my head up and smiled at the statues. "As you do not require sleep, I hope you did not mind my presence here tonight," I said aloud. "You are no worse off than you were before, and I am all the better for it."
"And all the better for the sleepless too," a man's voice responded.
For an inkling I could have sworn it was Anubis who spoke, and already I bolted to my feet. Then I realized the sound had come from behind me.
"Come here girl," said the voice. It was firm and decisive; the voice of one accustomed to giving orders. There was no chance to flee now; my feet obeyed automatically and carried me out onto a superb alabaster balcony set with vases full of blue cornflowers. So dazzled was I by the setting and the scene of Egypt's numerous homes and buildings that lay below us that I didn't realize who had been speaking to me until the moon threw his full face into my vision.
It was Pharoah Amenhotep.
My entire body could have turned to salt beneath his stare. I had seen him before, countless times in the court room. But never up close or in such informal circumstances like this. In the dead of night, he looked more human and yet more intimidating than ever.
He stood there with one hand upon the railing, his hard lean figure wrapped in a black robe and his scalp covered with a tight linen cap. There were gold sandals upon his feet. His posture indicted impatience and restlessness, a wild animal not yet ready to be tamed.
I hastily dropped to one knee and bowed my head. "My lord," I mumbled, feeling foolish and frantic all at once. Would he dismiss me from the palace for this blatant act of disobedience?
"Stand up," he commanded. I did as told. Pharoah exhaled through his nostrils and gestured to a small table on the side. "As my cupbearer has been dismissed for the night along with the other servants, you will serve me. Pour the wine."
What else could I do? I lifted the bottle from the table and poured some wine into the tall, fluted cup beside it. Ought I to have filled it all the way to the brim? But what if it spilled?
I chose to leave a small empty space below the brim rather than risk drops of wine landing upon my king. I placed the cup upon a plate and offered it up to Pharoah, all the while attempting to keep my head lowered as I had seen his cupbearer do before dozens of times.
Pharoah took the cup and drank deeply. "More wine," he declared. I filled it a second and then third time. Each time he took long slow gulps as though he inhaled the blood of all living thing into his body, neither hating nor enjoying the beverage.
"Here". The empty cup was placed upon the tray, which I set back down upon the table. I stood frigid in place, not daring to move or even flinch until being told to do so. I could not do anything else until Pharoah commanded me to do so.
"My lord, is all well?" I heard a youthful voice call behind me. Unable to turn my head, I had to presume it was a palace guard.
"All is well," Pharoah answered stiffly.
"Shall I stand watch on the nearby veranda?"
"No. Go back inside."
"But my lord…" began the youth.
"It is too late in the evening and too early in the daytime for an assassin to ply his trade," Pharoah retorted sardonically. "If I see one climbing up the palace wall, he will not breathe for long. Return to your post."
The guard squeaked something and then footsteps died away. The corners of my mouth instinctively twitched up from hearing Pharaoh's words. I urged my face to compose itself as Pharoah turned his attention back to me.
He pointed back to where the guard must have stood while his dark eyes glittered fiercely. "Do you see the adversity Pharoah must endure?" he declared to me. "My princes and priests provide contradicting advice in the daylight while guards lecture me on security in the night. I pray there is peace in the afterlife!"
To this I had nothing to say.
"What amuses you?" Pharoah demanded.
"N-nothing, my lord."
"Lies do not befit a maidservant. You smiled just now. Tell me what for."
My toes curled up as I thought quickly, trying to appease my king. "It was hearing your response, my lord. Pharoah is wise and perceptive, for he does carry great burdens upon his shoulders night and day."
"And that comment of your 'wise' Pharoah made you smile? Because you took delight in your king's trials and tribulations?" he pressed further.
I bowed my head and starred at my feet. "I beg forgiveness, my lord. It was but an instinctiveness response of a foolish girl," I babbled. "I should not have responded so informally to my lord's suffering."
Then I added, "If there is anything I can to ease Pharoah's discomfort, I would do so."
Pharoah turned to gaze at the flickering city before us. He thrust out his arms and placed both hands upon the railings. He was not a large man, but he could easily throw me off the balcony.
"Speak!" he snapped. I nearly jumped.
"What?"
"Speak!" Pharoah repeated. "You just said you wished to ease my discomfort. Behold, your king is plagued with another restless night. Nuit, Mother of the Stars, will not let me sleep. Therefore, let conversation preoccupy my thoughts."
And now dear reader, what was I to do? I was alone with my king, free from all court duties and able to speak without an outsider interrupting my words. His ear was near my mouth. It would be so easy for me to part my lips and tell him about a Semite slave who kept records in Ombos. Surely I had been placed in this time and place to speak about Joseph…
No. Not this time.
My tongue was a stone in my mouth, my lips were iron. A fool could see how impossible it would be to request favors from Pharoah in this moment. Had I not seen him sentence two men to death today? Was he not in a foul mood right now? Moreover, I had not served him and Tiaa for three full years. I was still a humble maidservant, beholden to the queen. To make a blatant request to Pharaoh while he was wracked with insomnia would, at the very least, be dismissed. At the worst, it could cause further harm to Joseph.
As close as I was to achieving my-or our-goal, I was given sufficient foresight to set the plan aside for now. I did so with great reluctance, for who knew if I could have the chance again?
"I would be honored to fulfilled Pharaoh's request," I finally said in a meek voice. "But my years are young and tender. How will I know what conversation pleases my lord?"
He paused and then said, "Select a topic and I will tell you if it is suitable."
The arrow had been released. I had to watch where it would fall.
"Snow," I heard myself say at last.
"Snow," repeated Pharoah. "What of it?"
"I was told of it by a slave who served in the late Potiphar's estate," I explained. "He was from the northern lands and described it to me. It sounded so peculiar; I had wondered if Pharoah knew of such a thing."
The flare in his eyes did not dim away, but his chin tilted sharply aside. "I know of such a thing," he said to me. "When I was but a child, my father's brother put me upon his knee and told me of the snow he saw falling in the hills of the lands of the Adulites. How did the slave describe it?"
I tried to recall Joseph's words. "He said it resembled ten thousand feathers falling from the sky. It looked like ash when it landed upon earth and burned the skin when it made contact."
Pharoah did not smile, but his lips drew back enough to reveal his crocodile teeth. "The slave spoke the truth. It was just as my uncle said so. Only he said it did not burn the skin but left a soft prickling sensation before it dissolved away."
"It sounds a most dangerous thing," I said, and then realized I had spoken out of turn.
But Pharoah continued. "Not so dangerous when a small bit of it falls upon a man. But too much of it freezes the water and kills the lambs. That was what my uncle used to say, and he was a man of few but righteous words."
This conversation had ended. Pharoah demanded a new one. Fortunately, I was able to address another topic that had interested me for some time.
"Pharoah has been blessed by Osiris with divine wisdom. He judges each man accordingly to his time," I began. "We were informed that Pharoah's cupbearer and baker were sentenced to prison for several days. The cupbearer was returned to his position while the baker was executed. If it pleases Pharoah, tell me how the sentences came to pass."
"Did you not know?" Pharoah exclaimed. As the event had occurred during the coriander affair, I explained to Pharoah that I had been bedridden at the time.
This satisfied my king and he spoke further. "I had just begun the evening meal when I found a dead fly in the wine cup. On the same day, a small stone was found in the bread upon my plate. Both men were taken to prison for these abominations. One remained to face the gallows. The other, as you have seen, was restored to his place. Is this not ma'at in all things?"
"Indeed it is," I agreed. Even the most scrupulous servant could not keep every gnat and flea out of the palace for they swarmed all over the land. A fly in Pharaoh's cup was appalling but harmless. However, ingesting a stone could be perilous. And I would have expected a baker to be more thorough in sifting wheat for Pharaoh's bread.
"And what if that stone had become lodged in the queen's throat? What then?" he demanded to me.
"Then the guilty party would be responsible for the queen's life," I suggested.
"Correct."
Pharaoh's fingers drummed upon the railing, the rings making small clicking sounds against the stones. I could feel his eyes assessing me.
"You are one of my queen's maidservants," he said at last. "The priestess from On."
"Yes, my lord," I spoke finally.
"What do they call you?"
"Asenath, my lord."
"Asenath," he repeated. "And how did you come to serve the queen?"
"The priest of On had perished. I had no other family and so I came to Thebes to put my efforts to good use."
"Indeed. And which of the gods instructed you to follow the Nile to my doorstep?"
Here I faltered. I couldn't say Amun-Ra spoke to me or Neith had appeared to me in a dream. Pharoah's hawkish gaze made me understand this man had much experience in seeing through flattery and deception. He could shred falsehood between his jaws.
"I was advised by a colleague, my lord."
"A colleague! Well, well. I hope he is as capable as he is perceptive."
I fought and failed to keep another smile out of my face. "He is indeed."
Pharoah said nothing more; I had nothing to respond to. We stood in silence as the glimmering lights of the city flickered below us. I wondered who was awake at this hour besides us? Perhaps a mother was up tending to a sick child. Or a craftsman was working on table for a wealthy customer. Perhaps a carpenter was fitting a coffin for deceased one. Or a groom and bride were consummating their marriage tonight.
"You are in love," said Pharoah suddenly.
I instantly flushed all over. "I was," I mumbled.
"You are," he insisted. "Pharoah sees into the hearts of men and women alike. When a woman loses her love, she droops like a wilted stock. But there is a glow in your eye and a flush in your cheek that confirms you have not lost hope."
My hands instantly flew to my heated face. I had to turn away and stare out into the flickering lights of the city to compose myself.
Pharoah pressed on. "Which of my officers has captured your heart? Or is it one of the counselors?"
I squeezed my eyes shut and hoarsely whispered out, "Neither."
"Neither? You are being quite secretive about the matter. Quite contrary to what I see in most of the palace girls who prattle on like clucking chickens. But don't turn your head away. Look back upon my face so that I may read your soul."
I did so with great reluctance. Those black eyes eyes bore hard into me, searching my countenance as though they could not just see me but into the thoughts of my head. I dared not stare directly into Pharoh's face but attempted to keep my attention upon his right ear and the leaves of a tree off in the instance. I clamped my lips shut, too worried to speak Joseph's name lest I spill out my entire heard before my king.
"You are…."
Contrary? Foolish? I mentally chastised myself.
"Odd," Pharoah concluded. "But I can tolerate an oddity in my home if it pleases the queen. Well, if your secrets mean that much to you then keep them to yourself, Asenath. I will let the matter pass."
The heat swirling within me finally released itself like air escaping from a leather bag. "Thank you, my lord."
"No matter. The kingdom must have a Pharoah secured on the throne. Just as I must have a loving wife and the subjects to pay homage and respect my reign. My father and his father before me have given me all that I require. All except dreams that evade me and pain that wracks my temples from time to time. Still, in spite of all this, still…"
He turned his head to me and gave a grim smile, revealing all of his teeth.
"It is a good thing to be a god!" he exclaimed.
It was a subject I knew nothing about. So, I said nothing about it.
We remained in place for a few more minutes until I found myself rubbing my eyes with the back of one hand.
"The hour draws late, Asenath. You should return to your bedchamber. The queen will require your service in a few hours." Pharoah gestured back to the hall. "You are dismissed for the night."
"Thank you, my lord."
I bowed and prepared to leave but he ordered me back.
"One more thing before your departure." Pharoah pointed his jeweled finger at my chest. "Do not speak of this conversation to anyone else. I forbid it."
"Not even the queen?" I inquired.
Pharoah paused, his black eyes flashing attentively in thought. Then he said, "You may tell the queen. But only when she is alone. Now go!"
I did as commanded and departed.
The river of life is not straight and forwarded as a sword. It bends and turns, it twists and writhes beneath your feet, carrying you to unknown destinations. Some are beautiful, others are perilous. But all will take you whether you want to or not. You cannot fight the current, no matter how hard you swim against it. The waves will push and shove you onward past bogs and marshes, through towns and cities where friends will smile at you and enemies will jeer at you. But further you go, because that is the only way you can continue living. To stop is to cease moving and to cease moving is to sink like stone into the river, to remain in place until the waters encompass your head and you drown.
If you plunge your hand into the river, you may catch a shimmering silver fish. Or a crocodile will swim up and clamp your arm in its relentless jaws. A hippo can send up bubbles and overturn your boat before crushing you with its body. But if you are patient and keep courage in your heart, you may keep your hands above the water and let the flowers float up to you where they are kissed by the sun's warmth.
There is a place where the waters are still and deep, so vast and grave that no other boats risk riding the river. If you dare to look down into the endless blue gaze and are patient to wait and let your eyes adjust to the river, you will not just see endless darkness and black sand like others. There in the fathoms below, something glimmers within the depths like a fine jewel waiting to be found.
A-A-A
Author's note: I apologize for the long delays in between chapters, but I have other commitments that take up much of my time. Also, working long hours on the computer puts a strain on my eyes so I cannot write as often as I plan to. I'm a slow writer but want my work to be the best quality I can make it. Good writing is a challenge. It's also rewarding. This story is going to be longer than I expected but I'm enjoying it so far and hope you enjoy Asenath's journey with me, one chapter at a time.