Magic of the Nile (24 page)

“We’re not required to kneel or kiss the earth at dinner,” Nidiamhet whispered to Tyema.

Baufratet came back to the table in a rush, crowding Tyema, forcing her to push Nidiamhet.  
Sahure’s old friend giggled as she said, “I almost got caught where I shouldn’t be, talking to the unmarried men when Pharaoh arrived.”

As soon as Nat-re-Akhte and his wife had taken their seats on the elevated dais, food was brought to them and servants carried heaping platters to the tables. Nidiamhet passed Tyema a plate of breads baked in different shapes, garnished with seeds and spice. She stared in amazement at the varieties. Picking one at random, Tyema gave the plate to Baufratet, who was busily chatting to the girl across the table. Next was a heaping platter of beef. Tyema was astounded. In her province cattle were almost never slaughtered for meat and even with her rank, the only times she’d eaten beef were on visits to the nomarch’s capital.

“Well, either take some or pass the platter along, don’t keep it all for yourself,” Baufratet said, leaning on the table with her elbows. “The rest of us are hungry too.” Her tone was teasing but Tyema became so nervous at her own display of naïve astonishment, she nearly dropped the heavy serving dish.

More delicacies kept coming, carried in by the steward’s indefatigable staff. Though she had little appetite, Tyema made herself eat a few bites, balancing the dizziness of hunger against the fear of suffering public bodily ills from sheer nerves. The girls chattered on about court gossip and left her alone for the most part, although Baufratet had the disconcerting habit of asking her a rapid-fire question out of the blue at unexpected moments, barely listening to whatever answer Tyema stammered out. Musicians set up in an alcove were playing on harps, flutes, and drums, which was pleasant. Music always soothed Tyema when she was anxious. The hum of conversation kept her from fully appreciating the musicians’ efforts.

A troupe of dancers performed, followed by a lively gaggle of acrobats. Tyema enjoyed the performances, especially since her companions focused on what was going on in the center of the floor, thus freeing Tyema from any risk of having to make conversation. She wondered when the dinner would end. She was going to need to feed Seknehure at some point. As far as her private mission for Sobek, there was no flicker of black magic anywhere in the vast room she could detect, which was something of a relief.

The girls were indulging freely in the beer and wine as the evening progressed. Their laughter was loud and shrieking and the jokes made no sense to Tyema, containing too many references to people and events of which she had no knowledge. She sat with her hands folded and watched the ever changing entertainment, trying to keep a pleasant expression plastered on her face, praying to Sobek for Pharaoh and the queen to signify the meal was over.

“I have an idea,” Baufratet said suddenly, rising from her seat. “Let’s toast to the health of Tyema’s baby.”

Startled, Tyema stared at her.
Where is this coming from?
Surprised by the hostility she felt underlying the girl’s outwardly pleasant demeanor, Tyema picked up her clay goblet of beer. “Kind of you to wish my son well.” She was dismayed to see the faint flickers of black magic dancing around Baufratet’s head and shoulders, barely visible.
Is she the sorceress? Can my task be so easy? Or is she being influenced?

Sloshing beer over the rim of her cup onto the table as she leaned in close, Baufratet asked, “What’s his name again?”

“Seknehure.” Shifting away from the spreading pool of beer, Tyema was conscious of an odd silence among the other women at the table. Glancing around she saw they were all watching her and Baufratet. Several of the faces displayed keen enjoyment of the awkward conversation, a few seemed to be pitying her and the others were embarrassed or bored.

The lady in waiting moved closer to Tyema, her breath like a brewery. “And who did you say the father was?”

“Baufratet—” One of the other girls rose to put a hand on her arm, trying to pull her to a sitting position. “People are staring.”

“I didn’t say,” Tyema remarked, straightening her back and staring at the drunken woman. “We can toast my child without a discussion of his father.”

Baufratet laughed, taking a gulp from her mug before raising it above her head. She addressed the occupants of the table. “But I think we should know before we make the toast. I heard it might be the Great One Sobek himself.”

“Lady Baufratet, are you unwell?” Edekh stood at her elbow, his face set in serious lines. “Do you need to be escorted from the room? Pharaoh has given leave, if necessary.”

“No.” She drank her beer without toasting and sat down with a plop, leaning on the girl next to her. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sure the Great Ones will be relieved to hear it.” With a nod, Edekh moved on to speak to someone else.

More dancers flowed into the center of the room, whirling sistrums, and executed a complicated series of steps. Tyema was grateful for the loud music, underscored by the buzzing music of the hand instruments.
That whole exchange with Baufratet was odd. When will this interminable dinner be over?

Mercifully, after the dance concluded Pharaoh and his wife left the chambers. Tyema gathered people were now free to leave if they wished, although most stayed. She didn’t see Sahure in the crowd, which was mingling more, men and women chatting as they ate figs and honeyed dates, and continued drinking. Muttering some excuse no one paid attention to, Tyema left the table and made her way resolutely out of the banquet hall, walking along the perimeter, hoping to stay unnoticed. Peeling the wilting flower garland off her neck just before exiting the room, she dropped the blossoms on the last table in a puddle of wine.

She took a deep breath of the relatively fresh air in the corridor and then, conscious of the watching guards, she retraced her steps to her rooms. The halls were different at night, mostly empty, quiet, lit by torches and oil lamps shedding odd shadows.

“Tyema, wait!” Sahure hastened to catch up with her. “You shouldn’t be wandering through the palace alone.”

“Sobek protects me wherever I am.” Touching her amulet with one hand, Tyema continued to walk.

“I’m sorry you feel you need his protection in the royal palace.” He fell into pace with her. “Did you enjoy the dinner? The performers?”

“The food was excellent, as was the entertainment.” She kept her answer short, hoping he’d get the hint she had no desire to make more conversation.

But Sahure was persistent. “Were the ladies good company? I know the queen hoped you might find subjects in common with some of her younger companions.”

Tyema considered how best to reply. Honesty was her usual tack, but knowing the queen had selected the women especially in hopes of providing her with pleasing company kept her from giving him the full truth. “Lady Nidiamhet was cordial and did her best to include me in the general conversation at the table. We discussed the similarities between writing poetry and writing songs.” She shrugged. “The others were fine, much caught up in their own affairs.”

“And Baufratet? I’m sorry she was a bit thoughtless, even rude, when we first arrived, but she was so eager to tell me about the special amulet she’d had blessed for my mother. I’ve known Baufratet since we were children and she never learned to tailor her explanation of the most minute detail of her adventures for a less than enthralled audience.”

Shaking her head, Tyema said, “Don’t ask me about her behavior unless you want the truth. I know you two are longtime friends.” The minute the words had left her lips, Tyema wished she hadn’t said them.
But who could blame me for being annoyed when she went out of her way to be annoying, and the scene she created was ridiculous. No doubt she knows perfectly well Sahure and I’ve been lovers and she’s jealous. Of all the ways to pick to embarrass me, that ploy has no teeth whatsoever.

“Must we walk so fast? I was hoping we could stroll and converse as we used to do on the beach in your province, not race along the hallway like chariot horses.” Chuckling, Sahure seemed to be having no difficulty keeping pace with her.

“This is Thebes, as you constantly remind me,” she said, bad temper making her words bitter. “Everything is different here.”

He reached out one hand and drew her to a stop, pulling her into an alcove between two pillars, where an alabaster statue of the goddess Isis was set on a marble shelf, flanked by small bronze oil lamps. “Even us? Must we be different here?” He pulled her into his arms, regarding her with such intensity, her heart stuttered. “I missed you. I longed to be able to talk to you, to reopen our last conversation in Ibis Nome and try again.”

Tyema felt her pulse race and her head swam. Being held so close by Sahure was reawakening her senses, sharpening her desire for him in spite of her best resolves.
I’m not ready. Not to talk and certainly not to resume our love affair on a moment’s notice. How can he expect me to be so willing tonight?
Although she hadn’t resisted his initial embrace, had even melted into his arms which felt so good around her, now she struggled to get away. Instantly he released her. Stepping into the center of the hall, where torches threw a patch of bright illumination, she said, “It’s late, I have a headache and I must nurse Seknehure. He’s probably screaming down the walls by now.”

Leaning against the column, a half smile on his lips, Sahure said, “Of course. I forget a mother’s life is bounded by the demands of a baby.”

“You don’t need to accompany me. I know the way from here.” Hastily, she set out.

Effortlessly he caught up. “Pharaoh commands I accompany you. The command isn’t a hardship to obey.” His voice was warm.

“We—we go to view the temple pond in the morning,” she said, desperate to find a neutral topic. “Early in the morning.”

“I know, Edekh told me the schedule. I’ll be ready. I’m sure it’ll be fascinating to compare this temple of Sobek to the charms of yours. I think the one here will suffer by comparison.”

The rest of the walk to her suite was made in silence. Tyema wondered what Sahure was thinking but he offered no clue. Just before they were in earshot of the guards, voice barely above a whisper, he said, “We’re going to have to talk, Ema, but I give you my word, not before the dedication ceremony is over, all right?”

Startled, she stared at him.

Ruefully, he put a hand to his forehead. “I probably had too much wine tonight. Being at the Southern Oasis for a year I’d forgotten military issue wine isn’t as potent as the vintage, “three-times-good” label stuff Pharaoh serves here in the palace. I apologize if I was too forward just now, rushing you.”

She cleared her throat, found her voice. “I think our entire relationship has been too rushed, right from the beginning.”

He frowned, eyebrows drawing together in a vee. “Surely you aren’t regretting the birth of our son?”

“No, of course not, Seknehure is wonderful and I’m so grateful I—
we
—have been blessed with a strong son.”

“I poured my heart out to you, back there in Ibis,” Sahure said. “You know me, Tyema. No one else knows me, understands me, the way you do. Rushed or not, you saw the heart of who I am.”

She wanted to deny the assertion, but he was right, she did know him.
And I love him, but he still doesn’t know me, doesn’t know about my past, about my daily afflictions. And there’s this question of the black magic.
Shaking her head, she stepped away. “Nothing permanent is possible between us, Sahure, nothing’s changed just because Sobek ordered me to visit Thebes. And I can’t handle an affair, not again.”

At first she thought he wasn’t going to say anything. His face was set in stern lines, accented by the ruddy torchlight. “I give you my word not to pressure you on the subject now, as long as you give me your oath we’ll have an honest conversation about us. I want your promise you’ll set forth in detail what you perceive to be the barriers to our being together, after the dedication, but before you leave Thebes.” He raised his hand when she opened her mouth to reply. “You owe me an explanation.”

“I promise.”

“And we’ll discuss our son’s future,” he added. “We owe him the establishment of an understanding between us.”

“Agreed.” She fled into her room, shutting the door with so much force that Renebti stared and the baby was startled into crying. Rushing to take her upset son from her yawning niece, Tyema blinked back tears.
Sahure wants a second chance for us, which should make me happy, but all the old obstacles still exist and there may be new ones. I wish Sobek had never sent me here.

Chapter Six

Hotepre reported to her chambers early next morning, dressed in his best brown cotton tunic, bald head gleaming. A single gold hoop was in his left ear.

“What’s this?” Tyema asked, pointing at his earring.

He shuffled his feet a bit. “The zookeeper took me and the boys into Thebes last night. I thought I’d like a souvenir, to remind me of the trip, to have in my tomb for the Afterlife.”

“Well, I like it.” She drank her pomegranate juice.
This trip is changing all of us to some extent.

One of the guards posted outside her door knocked, opening the portal at her command to allow Sahure to come striding into the room. He was wearing his dress uniform, the golden falcon badge of his unit gleaming on the broad leather straps across his bare chest, red cape swirling around his calves.