11

BY THE TIME I hurried through the main doors and out into the courtyard Hui was already waiting in the litter, bound in his linen like a sitting corpse. I climbed in beside him and at once he gave the order to move, leaning across me to pull the curtains closed as he did so. “Oh please, Master!” I protested as our conveyance rose onto the shoulders of the bearers. “Could we not leave them open? I have seen nothing outside your estate for more than two years!” He hesitated then grunted an assent and I lay back on the cushions, my eyes on the shrubbery of the garden gliding by. We were escorted by four household guards and I could hear their steady tread before and behind. The shadow of the entrance pylon slid over us and was gone.

We turned right, and there, just beyond Hui’s water-steps, was the Lake of the Residence, its level low because of the season, sparkling dully in the bright sunlight. A small craft with one lone rower was passing, and behind it the bulk of a laden barge loomed majestically. On the farther bank three skiffs lay beached, their white lateen sails collapsed and flapping idly in the intermittent, hot breeze. Above them was a jumble of roofs and then the brazen blueness of the summer sky. My vision was suddenly obscured by a group of four or five servants hurrying in the opposite direction along the road which we were sharing. Their bare feet kicked up little clouds of dust. They were talking animatedly and hardly glanced into the litter as they went by. A contingent of soldiers swung out and marched past us. They were heavily bearded, with coarse kilts aproned in leather and horned bronze helmets. They ignored us. “Shardana mercenaries,” Hui said tersely.

The sounds of the great city were more evident now, shouts and the creak of cart wheels, braying of donkeys, and other unidentifiable noises all blending into a hum of activity and industry that formed a faint, wind-shivered background to the gentle slap of water against the water-steps of the noble dwellings we moved slowly past. The road curved inward past these places, and huge walls reared up to our right, their tops hung with bristling palms and drooping tree branches whose shade dappled us. The watersteps were all guarded by men who watched the traffic carefully in spite of the fact that no one was allowed to use this road except those who lived or worked in the palace or the homes of the privileged that fronted the Lake.

My gaze remained on the water, and just as I had seen them so many months ago, Pharaoh’s barges came into view, rocking at anchor at the foot of his dazzlingly white marble watersteps. Their gold and silver chasings flashed. The imperial blue-and-white flags rippled high on their prows. Guards stood solemnly motionless before them. Although I was no longer the spellbound country girl who had once gazed on these marvels open-mouthed, they still filled me with wonder.

We turned right again. The watersteps were now behind us, and a vast marble landing had opened out, ringed with soldiers. Our litter was gently lowered and we got out. “We must walk from here,” Hui said. He reached back into the litter for his palette and box of medicines and I looked about.

Although the landing was surrounded on both sides by neatly trimmed trees and lush grass, it was so wide that we were standing in harsh heat where the shade could not touch us. Ahead, a granite pylon reared. Before its two sides, high standards lifted blue-and-white flags into the heavens and through its gateless centre I could see a paved path crowded with more trees. I am going to enter the palace, I thought, choked with elation. Somewhere beyond that pylon is the most powerful God in the whole world and I will be breathing the air he breathes, treading the floors his feet have rested upon. Each face I see has looked upon his face. Each ear has heard his voice. “Come,” Hui ordered, and I gathered my wits and fell in beside him, walking under the pylon where the gate guards gave us a sharp glance and then bowed.

A short distance in, the path I had glimpsed divided, running to left and right as well as straight ahead. Hui gestured to the left. “That goes to the harem,” he explained, “and to the right to the banqueting hall, the King’s office, and the rear gardens. We go to neither.” As he was speaking a man had materialized from the trees by the path and was approaching us. He bowed.

“Greetings, Noble Hui,” he said. “I am the Herald Menna. You are expected.” Hui gave him a curt nod and we set off, our four household guards behind us.

The pillars of the public reception area were easily visible long before we came up to them, four tall columns crowned in folded lotus buds and painted a spotless white. Soldiers stood at the foot of each one, eyes staring straight ahead, ignoring the people who came and went between them. Menna strode on. Beyond the pillars the coolness enveloped me like the embracing depths of the Nile itself and my footsteps echoed on the tiled floor, which was a dark blue shot through with sprinkles of darkly glittering gold. “What is it?” I whispered to Hui. His hooded face turned to me briefly and his red eyes gleamed at me in amusement. He was obviously not at all awed by his surroundings.

“The tiles are made of lapis lazuli,” he said. “The flashes of gold are in fact pyrite. Only Pharaoh and those of royal blood are allowed to wear or use the lapis, for the hair of the gods is composed of it. It is a very sacred rock.” The hair of the gods! I trod gingerly, marvelling like the child I had temporarily become, but I soon forgot my wonder, for we had threaded our way through the crowds in the reception hall and had entered the throne room.

Here the atmosphere of power and worship was almost palpable, and though many people came and went through the cavernous space they trod softly and spoke in subdued voices. Once again the floor was of lapis and the walls were too. I felt as though I was under a celestial ocean shot through with golden gleams. Mighty alabaster lamps stood on golden bases as tall as I. Incense perfumed the air from hanging censers. Servants in gold-fringed kilts and jewelled sandals, their hair imprisoned in ribbons of gold thread, stood at intervals around the walls, their kohled eyes watching the company. Every so often one of the throng would snap his fingers and a servant would detach himself from his place and glide forward swiftly to be sent on some errand or other.

At the far end, miles away as it seemed to me, was a raised dais that ran the width of the room. On it stood two thrones under a damask canopy. They were both of gold, with lion’s feet and backs depicting the Aten with its life-giving rays ending in hands radiating out to embrace and invigorate the beings who would sit there. One of them was of course the Horus Throne. I had no eyes, then, for the crowd. We drew ever nearer to the thrones. The Herald went up three steps and bowed to them before slipping through a small door behind them, on the dais to their left, and Hui and I followed suit. I was dazed with the opulence and dignity of my surroundings, dwarfed and intimidated to feel myself suddenly no more than an insignificant insect crawling on the floor of a temple.

The place behind the throne room was small and full of shelves and chests. I thought perhaps it was a robing and retiring room. We were soon through it and crossing a larger space, still imposing but more human in its dimensions and furnishings. Elegant low tables and chairs were scattered about and several animal skins lay on the floor. At the far end the wall disappeared in a burst of exuberant shrubbery and I could hear the piping and rustling of birds outside. Of course a guard was there, his spear canting, his broad back to us, and just beyond him I caught one startling and tantalizing glimpse of a tiny, impossibly beautiful woman in transparent yellow robes bending to pick a flower that nestled amongst the greenery before I found myself in a modest glazed hallway with tall cedar doors to right and left. A perfumed humidity oozed towards me from my right but the Herald opened the left-hand door, intoned Hui’s name, bowed to him, and retired. Hui strode forward and I followed.

This room seemed almost as vast as the throne room, a place of sombre shadows shot through by measured beams of brilliant sunlight from the clerestory windows cut high against the ceiling. I barely noticed the closed and guarded door on the left at the far end, the three or four blue-andwhite clad servants standing like wooden statues on the periphery of my vision, the sumptuously elegant chairs with their glinting electrum legs and high silver backs, the gold embossed surfaces of the few low tables across which the dim light slid. For in the middle of it all was an enormous couch that dominated its surroundings, and rising from the stool beside it and coming swiftly towards us was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

He carried himself with such innate grace and dignity that for a moment I was caught up in the sheer symmetry of his movements, but my eyes soon fastened on and then fled from one perfection to another. He was wearing a starched linen helmet of red and white stripes whose rim cut across his broad forehead and whose wings lightly brushed his squared shoulders. His face was wide, with a firm jaw, slim nose and mobile, well-formed mouth, all set on a short but lithe neck. The pectoral bumping gently on his muscular chest was very plain, a series of gold and silver links holding in the centre a black-and-white enamelled Eye of Horus with a jasper scarab hanging beneath it, and his one long earring, a pendant lotus, clicked softly against it as he strode. His calf-length kilt, secured by a thin jewelled belt, curved up over his tight hips and then dipped towards his private parts. Disenk had told me, during one of our interminable conversations, that this was the latest fashion for men but it did not suit those whose bellies had begun to sag. The belly approaching me above the whisper of the pleated cloth was so taut that its tantalizing striations were clearly visible. Wide silver bands encircled his upper arms with no suspicion of a fold in the flesh around them. He came quickly, moving in and out of the shafts of white light like a figure in a troubling dream or a god taking shape in a vision, luminously clear then indistinct, formed and unformed, until he came to a halt before us, his whole body bathed in dazzling sunlight, and smiled. The upward tilt of his hennaed lips did not dispel the air of easy authority he carried with him and his dark eyes remained politely watchful. The scent of myrrh invaded my nostrils, wafting to me from his healthy brown skin. So this was Pharaoh, the Son of the Sun, the Mighty Bull of Ma’at, Subduer of the Libu, Lord of the Two Lands. I wanted to clutch at Hui to prevent my trembling knees from giving way. He should have warned me, I thought furiously, unable to tear my gaze away from the glorious God himself. Pull yourself together, my girl, and concentrate on the moment, or you will have disgraced yourself for ever!

My Master had placed his palette and box on the floor and was bowing respectfully from the waist, arms extended. “So, Hui,” Pharaoh said. “Your patient is ready. I do not think the malady is serious, but one must never take chances with so illustrious a body.” His glance fell on me inquiringly and briefly our eyes met. I imitated Hui, hearing Disenk’s voice as I did so. “The reverence to royalty must be done swiftly, with eyes downcast and the head between the arms. For Pharaoh himself one goes down on both knees and the forehead and the palms of the hands must meet the floor. One does not rise until bidden to do so.” But Hui had only bowed from the waist and was even now straightening. Puzzled, I checked my deep obeisance.

“Highness, this is my aide and fellow physician, Thu,” Hui was saying. “She will have the honour of examining the Great One today. She is eminently qualified to do so, having been under my auspices for the last two years. I shall of course observe her diagnosis carefully.” He turned to me and I read pure humour in his blood-coloured eyes. “Thu, this is the Prince Ramses, eldest son of Pharaoh and Commander of the Infantry.”

“Highness, I am your faithful servant,” I choked, feeling a flush creep over my cheeks. You stupid idiot! I berated myself silently, furiously, my eyes on the floor between the two strongly boned, harmoniously muscled royal legs, but even in the midst of my embarrassment and confusion I felt his attraction and was conquered by it. The Prince put his hand under my chin and raised my face. The skin of his palm was rough, the texture of a man who was active with bow and spear, who moved from formal reception to barracks to bedroom with equal ease. The metal of his rings was cold against me.

“Banemus did parade-ground duty with me yesterday and he spoke of the blue-eyed enchantress in Hui’s house,” he said. “You seem too delicately lovely to be a physician. What is your lineage? Are you a citizen of Pi-Ramses?” I watched the movements of that very masculine but infinitely seductive mouth.

“No, Highness,” I said. “I am from the south.” His eyes lit up.

“From Thebes perhaps? Your family are minor nobles in that holy city?” I was saved from a reply by a voice from within the dimness.

“Ramses!” it called, echoing in the lofty ceiling. “Why do you pass the day with Hui when I am languishing here in pain and agony?” The words were petulant but the tone was cheerful, teasing. Ramses dropped his hand and laughed.

“The Mighty Bull is champing in his pen!” he said loudly. “I have business to attend to, Father. I will see you tonight.” He swept by me. His footsteps echoed as he went to the door which swung open at his approach. Then he was gone, and the room seemed more gloomy than before.

“Well done,” Hui whispered to me as we went to the couch. “I sensed your hesitation but you made a good recovery. Follow your instincts now, my little Thu. This is your moment.” He had recovered the palette and he handed the box to me. The couch and its occupant were very close. Together Hui and I went down on our knees and pressed our faces to the cold tiles of the floor. This, at last, was Pharaoh.

“Rise,” that happy voice commanded and we did so. Gathering up my courage I went forward. Hui took up his position a little behind me and uncapped his ink. I looked into the face of the ruler of Egypt.

Two small, alert eyes twinkled back at me from under the cloth cap prescribed by law, for from the time of his Appearing no pharaoh was allowed to be seen without a covering on his head. His face was full, the cheeks pendulous, the mouth resembling his son’s but thicker, more sensual. He raised untidy eyebrows at Hui with a sharp, “Well?” and Hui introduced me. The royal gaze returned to me and I was bidden to begin my examination. I was terrified but determined not to disgrace myself or Hui. I began with some questions.

“What are your symptoms, Majesty?”

“I have a pain and grumbling in my bowels,” he answered promptly. “I sweat with a mild fever. There is Ukhedu in my faeces.” I bent to smell his breath as he spoke. It was hot and foul.

“What have you eaten in the last two days, Majesty?” His eyes slid mischievously to my one exposed breast as I straightened and his tongue came out to rest on his lower lip.

“This morning fruit, bread and beer,” he told me solemnly, his glance shifting up my neck to my mouth. “Last night I feasted with my Vizier and his train and I rather think I partook of the sesame seed paste too excessively. I also drank copious amounts of Good Wine of the Western River. Perhaps it was tainted?”

“Perhaps.” I was trying to ignore those lascivious eyes which had now wandered to my own. I saw them widen in surprise. “Have you suffered these discomforts before, Majesty?” He sighed.

“Sometimes, my pretty one. You have blue eyes, the bluest I have ever seen, like the Nile under winter sunlight. Surely you are too young to be playing at the stern craft of medicine!”

“Majesty,” I retorted with mock severity, “I am here in a professional capacity to examine you and prescribe a treatment. If your Majesty wishes, you may flatter me later.” I thought for a second that I had gone too far. His expression went blank and then became suffused with the same authority I had seen in his son. Then he relaxed and gave a high-pitched laugh.

“Little scorpion!” he chuckled. “I have not seen your tail but your tongue certainly has a sting in it! I like you! Proceed with your examination!”

Taking a secret, slow breath I pulled the sheet away from him, laying it discreetly over his hips, and began to palpate his abdomen. My fingers sank into his ample flesh, which had a doughy consistency. His skin was hot and dry, his lower stomach slightly distended. As I worked I felt his attention fixed fully on my face, my breast swinging free. I did not want to put into words my disappointment and disillusionment. This large, gluttonous, fat man with his bold gaze and foolish patter surely could not be the Lord of All Life. The God who sat upon Egypt’s Horus Throne was tall and regal, sparing of word and graceful of action, a mysterious presence from whom must emanate the overwhelming power of the Godhead. The young man who had left, handsome and assured, charismatic and noble, he was really Pharaoh! They were playing a cruel trick on me, Hui and this flabby man whose penis was stirring under the sheet as I completed my probing. This could not be!

I kept my face impassive as my fingers explored the thick neck, then I stood back. “Your Majesty has a mild Ukhedu of the bowels, caused in all probability by rancid oil mixed with the sesame paste. Your Majesty’s heart is strong and there is no swelling of Your Majesty’s glands. I recommend a three-day fast of water only for Your Majesty, during which time Your Majesty will take the cleansing and restoring elixir I will prepare.” I bowed, hearing the rustle of papyrus as Hui recorded my words. Pharaoh stared at me for a long time, then he broke into a wide smile that lit up his face. I could not help but respond.

“No wine, little scorpion?” I shook my head firmly.

“No wine, Majesty.”

“How old are you?” The question was abrupt.

“I will be fifteen in two weeks, Majesty.”

“Hmm.” He pulled the sheet back up to his chin, holding it in both hands and peering at me over its edge like a naughty child. “And you are Hui’s pupil?”

“I am the Master’s assistant, Majesty.”

“You are gorgeous.” He closed his eyes. “I will sleep now. Send me the medicine. If it makes me sicker I will throw you in prison.” I knew that he was joking but nevertheless I bit my lip. “Paibekamun!” For a moment the name he had shouted made no impression on me, then I turned. The High Steward was materializing out of the dimness, coming up to the couch and bowing. I smiled at him but apart from a sidelong glance he ignored me as he did my Master. Like the other servants in the palace he was dressed in gold-bordered linen, but a broad blue-and-white sash denoting his office was tied across his chest. “Have wine and honey cakes served to the Seer and his assistant in my private reception room,” Pharaoh went on. Then as Paibekamun bowed again and backed away, the King’s hand shot out from beneath the sheets and grasped my sheath, pulling me down towards him. “Tell me, Thu,” he muttered breathily, “are you still a virgin?” I felt Hui stir behind me before I answered.

“Most certainly, Majesty,” I replied. “My Master rules a very moral house.” The cloud of rancid air enveloped me again.

“Are you courted? Is there no young man waiting impatiently for you to reach the age of betrothal?” I wanted to pluck his fingers from my linen but I did not dare. Instead I leaned a little closer until my nose brushed his. I do not know why I did so. Perhaps some dormant talent for coquetry was responding to his forthright questions, or a ruthless feminine need to see a man teased.

“No indeed, Mighty Bull,” I murmured. “I have been entirely devoted to my Master and my work.” He released me and I stood straight.

“Peculiar work for a woman,” he said wryly, and heaved himself over on the couch. Hui tugged at my arm. The interview was over.

Back in the room with such pleasingly human proportions, with the sound of leaves quivering in the breeze and filtered sunlight splashing across the floor, I sank into a chair. I found myself shaking with reaction, and very angry. Hui sat also, and regarded me steadily. There was silence between us. Before long, a servant appeared, bowed, set a silver tray containing goblets and a dish of sweetmeats between us, and retired. Paibekamun did not come. I had no appetite but drank the wine greedily, and the rush of heat to my stomach served to calm me somewhat.

“You knew who my patient was to be yet you gave me no warning!” I finally burst out. Hui raised a finger to his lips.

“I did not want to frighten you,” he explained. “If you had known, would you have behaved as you did? I do not think so.”

“And how did I behave?” I asked acidly. Hui selected a cake and nibbled at it before answering. He did not seem disturbed by my obvious indignation.

“Like a good physician, like a curious child, like a seductive woman,” he said. “In short, dear Thu, you were perfect. So was your diagnosis, and Ramses will not forget. Let us go home.”

Outside the door the same Herald was waiting. Wordlessly he led us back through the ante-room, the throne room, the impossible expanse of the public reception hall and out into the blazing noon sun. On the landing, our litter bearers sprang out of the shade in which they had been lying. The household guards, left standing at the door to the throne room, were once more before and behind us. Hui had one more comment as we reclined on the cushions and waited to be lifted. “I did not know that Prince Ramses would be there,” he said. I did not reply. Prince Ramses. I had eyed the crowds as we walked back through the palace, hoping for a glimpse of him, my heart racing at the mere prospect, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Paibekamun is a cold man,” I ventured later as we were turning into our own estate. Hui grunted.

“Paibekamun knows the etiquette of his position,” he retorted. “He is not for you to judge.” With that, we continued down the path towards the courtyard and soon alighted. Harshira was waiting, holding out one meaty hand to assist me, and as I grasped its reassuring firmness I thought how much more regal the bulk of Hui’s Steward was than the same girth in our Pharaoh. “Thank you, Harshira,” I said, and he smiled.

“I am your servant, Thu,” he replied.

Under Hui’s eagle eye I made up the medicine for Pharaoh—first a mixture of saffron to relieve his bowel cramps and garlic to slay the Ukhedu and then a restorative of kesso root, cinnamon and pepper. It had been a good naming day gift I reflected as I pounded my pestle into the herbs. I had rubbed shoulders with the privileged, I had actually touched Pharaoh himself, I had been in the palace. “It is not true that Pharaoh has no wealth,” I remarked to my Master as he watched me. “Never in my life have I seen such splendour!” He laughed grimly.

“Pharaoh’s Treasury is filled at the whim of the priests,” he said. “You think you have seen wealth, Thu? Of course, compared to your family in their mud house at Aswat, our ruler is unimaginably rich. But the temples are richer. Did you learn nothing from your history lessons with Kaha? There was a time when the royal palace at Thebes was paved with gold and its doors were beaten silver. Do not turn the kesso into dust, foolish one.” I laid the pestle aside at his reprimand and did not pursue the subject. When I had filled the two phials for the King and Ani had taken them away, Hui and I shared a simple afternoon repast and I went out into the drug of Ra’s afternoon heat to swim.

Two weeks went by. I had regaled an envious Disenk with a highly coloured account of my brief visit to the halls of power, describing Prince Ramses of course but remaining silent regarding my reaction to him. That I hugged to myself. In the moments before I fell asleep at night, in the times when my hands were occupied but my mind could wander, and best of all, when I lay outside the bath house while the young masseur’s hands moved over me, I daydreamed about him. I was once again a servant girl, this time in the harem, seeing to the needs of Pharaoh’s concubines. The Prince entered on some errand for his father. Pain overtook him, he collapsed under my concerned eye. My box of medicines at the ready I ministered to him, my fingers moving over him to locate the source of the problem (and oh the sheer thrill of that fantasy!). He was imprisoned by his pain and my touch. He was able to inspect me closely as I worked. “We have met before,” he said in surprise. “I now remember your blue eyes. Are you not a member of the minor nobility, from the south? Why are you in this menial position?” And he would take me to his own quarters. There would be a marriage contract in the end. I would be the Princess Thu, envied and idolized by the whole court, the whole country.

Disenk had listened to my excited story with nods of approval, as though she was responsible for my success. Of course, in many ways she was. “Perhaps you will go there with the Master again,” she said rather wistfully, but Hui made no more mention of my small adventure and the days regained their former predictable shape.

The day after my naming day, however, I was summoned to the office. Hui was behind the desk, and on it lay a thin scroll. He had broken the seal and small pieces of blue wax littered the surface of his table. I thought at first that it must be a letter to him from my father and anxiety shook me as I bowed and perched on the edge of the chair my Master had indicated. My apprehension deepened as he said nothing. His thoughtful gaze travelled me slowly, from my neatly beribboned hair to my linen-draped knees, and I kept my eyes on his face. I do love him, I thought. Not with the fever I believed I felt, but with something more sane. As though he had read my mind he suddenly looked up and smiled warmly. “We have grown close to one another, you and I, have we not, my Thu?” he said. I nodded vigorously. “You were a sullen, impulsive, stubborn child when you hauled yourself aboard my barge that night in Aswat, so long ago. I knew when I first saw you that you would be important to me, but I did not know how attached to you I would become.” He sighed. “There is a perverse pleasure in moulding the growth of another human being. One can quickly become as possessive as a master with a slave. Your fearsome native intelligence has saved me from that fate, I think. You have become a good physician in your own right, and in doing so you have ceased to be my toy. Yet you are very young.” He pushed the scroll towards me. “This was inevitable. Give me your opinion.”

I took the papyrus and unrolled it carefully. The hand was not Pa-ari’s and I smiled in relief, but the grin soon left my face. The missive was written in very formal hieroglyphs, not the racing hieratic script of swift or casual correspondence, and was of a piercing beauty. This scribe was at the pinnacle of his trade. “To the Most Noble Seer and Physician Hui, greetings,” I read aloud. “On the Feast Day of the Great God of War, Montu, we were pleased to receive and be attended to by your charming assistant, Thu. Her medicine has been most efficacious, and on allowing her to minister to us, we were disarmed by her beauty.” I glanced up, shocked. “This is from Pharaoh!” I blurted. Hui waved at me to go on. “Having endured several sleepless nights injurious to our health and therefore to the health of blessed Egypt, we blame the intensity of her blue eyes and the pertness of her conversation. We have conceived a desire to alleviate our distress by a renewed and hopefully prolonged encounter with this female. We therefore petition you, as her guardian, to facilitate her removal to our harem as soon as the permission of her father, if he lives, may be obtained. We guarantee, of course, that all her reasonable needs will be met and that she will be treated with the care and respect accorded to every woman fortunate enough to belong to the Horus Throne. By the hand of my Chief Scribe, Tehuti, I am Ramses Heq On, Lord of Tanis, Mighty Bull, Great One of Kings …” I could not go on. The scroll rolled up with a rustle and I needed both hands to place it with exaggerated care on the desk. “Hui what is it?” I cried out. “What is it?”

“Pharaoh has conceived a passion for you,” Hui said gently. “He wants you for his concubine. Do not be so distressed, my Thu. It is a great honour, one every daughter of our noble families would kill for. What do you think?”

Visions came tumbling through my mind: Pa-ari and me by the water’s edge at home in Aswat and I watch with bated breath as he traces out my first writing lesson in the dirt; Pa-ari and I sitting together out on the desert while Ra sinks towards the horizon, and my restless ka finds a voice that goes shrieking across the wastes to the feet of the gods themselves; my mother and her friends sipping wine and gossiping while I sprawl beside them and dream of the merchant who will come to Aswat and need a scribe … The parade slowed. I saw myself on Hui’s barge, wet and frightened and determined. I heard his mocking, arrogant voice. Hui the mysterious, Hui the Seer. The Seer …

My hands left the scroll and clenched. I felt my whole body tense, and I got out of the chair and stood rigid. “You knew it would come to this,” I said softly, urgently. “You knew, didn’t you, Hui? Because you planned it all. How stupid I have been! You bring me here, you keep me away from every contact outside this house, you alternately bully and coax me so that I become completely reliant upon your good wishes. You pamper and train me like an athlete for the wrestling, the wrestling, yes!” I was finding it difficult to catch my breath, so violent was my emotion. I thumped the desk with one angry fist. “What kind of wrestling, O my Master? The sweetest kind of all? You deliberately took me to treat Pharaoh, knowing his taste for young girls, gambling on his immediate interest. You have been using me all along! But why?” I burst into tears and could not go on.

Hui had risen, and now he came around the desk, and taking me in his arms he lowered himself into the chair I had left, cradling and rocking me as though I was a baby. I struggled to free myself, to no avail. He held me tightly until I gave up and curled into his breast. Then he began to stroke my hair soothingly.

“No, Thu,” he said calmly. “I have not been using you all along. I have told you—I did indeed see your face in the Seeing Bowl before you stood in the darkness of my cabin at Aswat. I recognized you at once, and knew that you would be vitally important to me. To me alone! Are you listening?” I did not respond and his fingers did not pause, continuing to draw themselves tenderly down my scalp. “I did not know in what way you and I were linked,” he went on. “It was only later that I began to see the possibilities latent in the situation. I cared for you. I care for you now. Do you believe me?”

“No,” I said sulkily, my face pressed into his neck, and I felt his muscles move as he laughed shortly.

“That is better. Your tears never last long, my Thu, even when they are shed from self-pity. When I realized how useful you could be, I began to arrange your education accordingly. Do not be angry any more. Here.” He lifted the hem of his kilt. “Dry your eyes and sit up and listen to me.” I could not refuse him. Grudgingly I did as I was told, turning to look into his face, those pale, handsome features I had grown to love and fear. “You do indeed match Pharaoh’s taste in female flesh,” he said. “You are young and beautiful and your body is slim and firm. But those things alone would have meant nothing. Girls with those qualifications are numerous, and Pharaoh has bedded and discarded dozens of them over the years. Three things decided my course of action. Your blue eyes, so exotic and un-Egyptian, the intelligence that made you such an apt pupil, and your character. You are at heart a ruthless, scheming, selfish little thing with the ability to sink your teeth into what you want and hold on until it is utterly your own. Do not squirm! I speak only of your less endearing qualities. I too, dear Thu, and the men you met the other night who gathered here to look you over, we also are ruthless and scheming. But we are first and foremost loyal and worried sons of this mighty country.” He had my attention now. I climbed from his knee and went rather unsteadily to sit in his chair behind the desk where I could see him better. Sobs still choked me but I had stopped crying.

“Explain to me,” I hiccuped.

“We want you to accept a position as Pharaoh’s concubine,” he said bluntly. “We believe that you have the skill to hold yourself in his favour long after most of the other young concubines have ceased to distract him. You can intrigue him, entertain him, and as time goes by, influence him away from the disastrous policies he now endorses.”

“That is ridiculous,” I snapped. “How could I possibly make the Great One do anything other than make love to me? You would do better to suborn one of his advisers.” I was still smarting from his earlier words and from the knowledge that I had been only a gaming piece. Yet I was flattered also. He naturally knew that I would be.

“His advisers know that their futures depend on showing the priests in a good light,” Hui told me. “But his women have nothing to lose. Those who fall from grace simply retire to the luxury of the harem. And Ramses is very susceptible to the whims and wishes of women. He has a lascivious nature. He is a kind man, and honest in his way, but he is frightened. You are strong, Thu, and wily. You will get to know him and then manipulate his decisions.” He leaned forward and spoke earnestly, without artifice. “Egypt needs you, Thu. Make Pharaoh your tool, for his own good and the good of Egypt. Help us to break the stranglehold the temples have on the Horus Throne and restore a true Ma’at to this holy country!”

“You are sure that I will accept, aren’t you?” I said ruefully. “What if I refuse?”

“How could you?” he countered. “Is it not the culmination of every dream you have ever had? Nay, is it not greater than your dreams? You are not one to turn away from such a challenge and besides, I will help you. So will Paibekamun and Panauk and the others.” He came to his feet and held out a hand. “Talk it over with Disenk if you like. You can take her with you if you go. Think about it and give me your answer tomorrow. Then we will take a little trip to Aswat, to consult with your father.” I walked to him but did not take his hand.

“You are talking again as if I will do what you wish,” I said, my voice still muffled with the tears I had shed. “But it seems to me that you have used and betrayed me no matter how you may justify your actions, and I am wounded and sad. Why should I do anything to help you, Hui?”

“Because it will be Egypt you help, not me,” he replied promptly, “and in spite of how you feel, did I not take you out of the bondage of the earth and give you a new life? Is that not worth a little gratitude?”

“Not if you did it for your own ends.”

“I have already told you that it was not.”

“So you did.”

“Then swallow your pride and recognize that I love you even if I have used you. And Thu …” I had already moved to the door but I paused, one hand on the wood.

“Yes?”

“You need not have murdered Kenna after all. His hatred of you would have made no difference to me. You were always far more important than he.” Were the words a reassurance, a threat or a warning? I did not know, and I had had enough. I did not look at him. I let myself out of the office and made my way almost blindly back to my own room, but as I went a thought struck me. I had met Pharaoh on the feast Day of Montu, the great Theban God of War. My totem, Wepwawet, was also a God of War. And did I not believe that I was born to be a fighter?