Shiri (21 page)

XIV

Shiri passed through the gardens slowly.
How had it come to this?
She could barely look at him anymore, and yet she could not stop seeing him. Everywhere she went she saw his face, every time she closed her eyes she felt his lips, every time she slept she wished he was beside her. Yet, every time he came to her and tried to speak she hated him.

She heard a stealthy footfall behind her and spun. She breathed a sigh of relief when she s
aw it was not her master’s wife. “You make a habit of sneaking up on unescorted ladies?”

Old Solon winked.
“Only the pretty ones.” A small black creature, half way between a kitten and a cat was snaking in and out between his feet, tangling itself up in his legs and looking determined to trip him.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“A cat? I don’t have a cat.” The old man cursed, commanding the animal to leave him be. The kitten chose to ignore him. He rolled his eyes. “I threw the pest a scrap the other week and ever since I can’t get rid of it.” He glared down at the creature, before apparently realising he was fighting a losing battle, bent to give his resolute escort a rub between the ears. The kitten seemed delighted.

The old man grinned up a
t her before regaining his feet. “Already the gardens are looking better. I have some seeds in my workshop, come on I’ll show you.”

He knows
she realised
.

He headed towards it, still talking merrily as he beckoned for her to foll
ow. “I think some basil and perhaps a few sprigs of belladonna would-”

“I don’
t know what to do,” she blurted. “Sometimes I think to run.”

Solon paused in mid-step.
“Nay, Shiri, not that above all else, ‘twas luck alone that saved the last ones, any but Yuya and they would have paid a heavy price.”

She turned from hi
m. W
orth the risk if it were my life alone.
“When Tjuya discovers ... she might ... she might...” she held a protective hand over her belly. “She comes to me whenever he is not around you see ... she comes and makes me serve her in whatever small way gives her pleasure. Though she does not seem so interested of late, and her demands that I kneel grow less frequent.”

“Some mercy there then, mayhap she grows weary of the battles.”

Shiri shook her head. S
he loses interest because she thinks me broken.
“She was bluffing,” she said at length. “I should have seen it then. She will not betray him. I see it in the smiles she gives him every day.”

“Treachery was born in a woman’s smile.”

“You think she would yet go against him?” she looked suddenly nervous.

He shrugged.
“Who can say? But I’d wager it would take more than the flight of a slave to drive her to it. Her fate is bound to his now.”

“As is mine,” she stared passed him, “and theirs.” Amaris and Yocobel were hard at work at the far end of the garden, weeding and scattering seeds. There were no leering
ghaffirs,
nor lecherous priests standing over them now. But they seemed determined to work all the harder for it. More than once she’d imagined she’d seen Yocobel casting Josef the occasional wistful glance.
How many more hearts would he take?

“Aye, he’s ever quick to sav
e the pretty ones,” Solon noted. “But I do believe his standards drop of late.”
Truth in that
, he had not seen it at first, but he saw it now, some small part of what Yuya had seen perhaps. She held some hidden beauty in her eyes, beauty beyond what a passing glance might note.

His praise was rewarded with a fleeting smile. It turned sour as curdled milk almost before he’d seen it come. “You’ve a honeyed tongue, Solon, but I’d prefer you speak truth not flatteries.”
I’m no Tjuya, nor even Yocobel.
She sighed as she looked on the sisters. “Let us hope he does not leave them with the same predicament he’s left me.” She turned to him then, those eyes pleading. “I don’t know what to do,” she repeated.

“Tell him.”

She shook her head. “I...”

“He’ll realise it himself soon enough, he can’t be both blind and fool. Others will realise too.”

“I think Tjuya already suspects.”

“Tell him quickly then.”

She seemed to come to a decision. “No, I have to leave, it’s the only way. She won’t betray him, at least not if I go before it’s discovered ... will she?” She shook her head, seeming uncertain again. “No, she won’t, she can’t.” She turned to Solon hopefully. “He’ll find a way to get me safe passage to the Wildlands and give me coin enough to scratch a life beyond the red wastes. He said as much.”

“And leave with you too perhaps? Is that your hope?”

“I think he might have once,” she said. She wondered if it was true and even now found herself hoping it was. She cursed herself for the thought
. Why can’t I turn from him?
Why
? She sighed. “But not now,” it hurt to admit as much.
If ever I truly had him, I’ve lost him now.
“He sets himself to more important things.”

“A babe has a way of changing a man’s priorities.” He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. The shepherd girl no longer pulled away from
this
Gypto. He wasn’t sure when the trust had come. “But either way, Shiri, the Wildlands are hard and cruel. An infant is not like to survive.”

The strength seemed to go out of her then, and he found himself having to steady her. She did not weep, but he heard the
tears in her words all the same. “But what am I to do then? Death or bondage is that all I can offer you?” Solon realised she was not speaking to him anymore.

They entered his workshop. Solon’s kitten darted between her legs and found a bowl of tepid milk that had been laid out for her. Little wonder it insisted in following him everywhere. The workshop was a mess of strange contraptions and wooden models. He saw her eyeing them and grinned proudly.

He pointed to a large wooden box full of sizable balls of polished bronze. “See that? A thunder maker!” He rocked the box back and forth and the balls rolled up and down causing an impressive din – but not exactly thunder. He saw the look on her face and actually reddened a little. “Aye, well, it just needs to be bigger.” He smiled again. “Young master Yuya wants the temple to be so full of miracles that none will ever doubt the might of the One God.”

“The
Jealous
God,” she corrected him. Even idols of
Ba’al
and
Anu
; the gods of her parents were to be listed as forbidden. Once out of sight of any prying eyes she allowed Solon to rest his hand gently over her tummy. It had been concealed well enough under her lose fitting kaftan, but he could feel the bump clearly now. “There’s strength here,” he said encouragingly, “A boy I think, mayhap he
could
survive the Wildlands.”

She pulled back from him, the slightest flicker of
anger in her eyes. “It is not only men that are strong.”

“Possible dea
th or certain bondage,” he said. “There is perhaps a third choice. Tjuya is with child.”

Shiri’s eyes widened.
“What? ... But that means that he-”

“That he’s been keeping to his marriage vows, aye, you expected different?”

“No ... I just...” She looked away. “No.” Her eyes found a strange looking model as she tried to push thoughts of Josef and his wife from her mind.

Solon followed her gaze. “Doors to what will be the new temple’s inne
r sanctum,” he told her. “You see, when the Godfires are lit I can harness the heat to turn these pulleys here...” he pointed to a mess of strings and wooden wheels. “It will make the doors open as if by magic! But that’s nothing have you ever seen fire wrought from light? With a polished bronze skilfully aligned I...”

Shiri had turned away from him. She could see them now; Josef and Tjuya entwined together making love in their marriage bed and whispering sweet nothings in each others ears, while she cried herself to sleep, cold and alone in the basement beneath their floor.

Solon sighed as she walked aimlessly through the clutter, glancing at various half finished contraptions without really seeing. “There’s naught to say she can’t have twins,” he ventured.

She spun.
W
hy did he have to keep going on about her?
“Are you trying to hurt me?”

He shook his head.
“What I’m saying is ‘tis not uncommon in these parts for a man to adopt his bastards...” he ignored the slave’s reaction to the word, “... as if they were his trueborn sons. Tell him, Shiri. Tell him to claim that the infant is Tjuya’s, she’s not so far behind you. She’ll have her babe within a few weeks of yours – a moon at most. Yuya can declare his wife had twins and the world need never know the truth of it.”

Shiri looked horrified.
“I’m not listening to anymore of this.” She went to move past him.

He reached for her.
“Your babe will grow up not only free but in the lap of luxury; the child of a high-born lord ... you would gift it bondage or death instead?”

She shook her head.
I’m not giving her my baby.
“I ... Tjuya would never stand for it.”

“Maybe she will maybe she won’t.
Yuya has a way of persuading people and if naught else ‘tis worth a shot. You know the alternatives, and this is not about you, but him,” he pointed to her belly. “What’s best for him?”

She paused, clearly trying to thin
k up objections that made sense. “But wouldn’t it make things awkward for Josef? What if-”

“If a man’s not willing to make his life a little awkward for the sake of a child of his blood then he’s
not much of a man.” He grinned. “Besides, if his lordship says no I’ll give him a few whacks with this to knock some manners into him.” The old man shook his staff gallantly to prove he meant business.

Shiri grabbed him by the wrist before he did himself an injury. “Others will know, Solon ... they’ll realise my state soon enough and will wonder what happened to it ... it won’t take a genius to
-”

“Many Habiru babes die in the cradle. A quick ceremony, an empty box, none will be the wiser.” He c
ould see the torment within her. “I’m not saying you’ll have to give it up completely, Shiri. Son or daughter, nobody would raise an eyebrow if Yuya were to make use of his recently bereaved bodyslave as wet-nurse to one of his wife’s twins. After all, he would not want to over tax her. And in time who’s to say the wet-nurse could not be bodyslave to the child? You would ever be by his side as he grows. You would be his mother in all but name.”

Many die in the cradle.
“Tjuya, she might agree on the surface, but ... she could try to ... even before it’s born she might try to hurt it ... we’re in the same villa, she’s ever near at hand, she could come at me when Josef’s away and-”

“Ah, yes, as I was saying he wants a lot of miracles for this new temple of his, I’ll be needing an assistant, and with Amaris and Yocobel ever tending your gardens I think you’re somewhat underworked of late.”

She gave him a strange look. “Underworked?”

“Aye, of course that means you’ll have to move out of that basement and take up lodgings with this old fool for the next … oh nine or ten moons or so.”

He saw the slightest of smiles play across her face and for the first time in weeks he even glimpsed a little glimmer of hope return to her eyes. “You ... you really think it would work, Solon?”

He paused
.
“
Aye … of course it will.”

The smile grew wider, trusting, thankful, beautiful. The old bowyer found himself wishing he was twenty years younger. She moved forward and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. “I ... I have no means to thank you.”

He almost blushed before quickly he waved the words aside. “Never mind that, never mind that. And don’t think I’ll not be working you.” He grinned. “You can start by tending to this little blighter.” The kitten had somehow managed to find its way onto the bench beside his model doors, get tangled in the strings and pulleys, and tug the whole contraption half to pieces.

“Slaves can’t own...”

“I didn’t say own, ‘tis not a bloody dog we’re talking about. Show me the man that claims he owns a cat and I’ll show you a fool. I said tend.” He growled as he grabbed the pest and practically threw it into her arms. “The way I hear it, your master’s wife runs from kittens faster than Old Aratama runs from swords.” The grin broadened. “Well I’d hate to see you have to face her again without a sword of your own.”

A sword?
She stroked the kitten under its chin. “What’s her name?”

Solon had turned away from her now, busying himself with a strange looking alabaster statue, it was hollow and she could see thin copper tubes leading up the inside of its neck towards its eyes. “Name? I hadn’t thought to give it one, got any in mind?”

“Yes,” she said instantly. “Lady ... her name is Lady.”

XV

They’d parlayed the money from the melted gods into the new batch of Habiru General Thauney had hauled into Memphis in time with the feast of
Osiris
. Near six thousand new won slaves was the result. Heliopolis did not have work, nor food enough for such numbers, but that did not seem to concern her husband. “We will rent them out,” he’d declared confidently, and so they did. Small holders and high lords alike were quick to see the benefit of hiring workers from Heliopolis for half a coin or a few ears of corn when they had need. It was cheaper and more efficient than buying them up and having to keep them fed and housed all year round.

Her husband would meet personally with those who wished to rent his stock, determined to explain that even while not on his lands the slaves were still
his
private property and if any returned marked, damaged, or underfed he would have return of twice the slave’s worth. Often he journeyed unannounced to his customers and if any were not treating his stock with the proper respect he took it as a personal insult, and demanded reparations before cancelling the contracts and hauling his Habiru back to Heliopolis.

Those guilty of failing to meet his standards were added to a blacklist and would not be rented to again. Tjuya thought her husband
’s manner of doing business a little extreme and many that could have been regular customers were soon denied business. Still, his methods did at least ensure that their Habiru were kept healthy and had full stomachs, and her father had always said, one healthy Habiru was better than two sickly ones.

She graced him with an appreciative glance. He was heavily bedecked in temple finery, ready to leave the city on some errand which he’d neglected to tell her about. But that was not why she confronted him now; she spoke in tones gentle and tender as a lover’s kiss, but the words were of a different flavour. “What need to take a Habiru bastard when your wife is to provide you with an heir of pure blood?” She stroked the small but growing
bulge. “Already, I can feel him inside me, he is strong; a son, I know it.”

He moved for the exit, this was not the time to discuss such things, young Prince Tuthmosis was only a few miles from Heliopolis, hunting near the Giants of Giza, and h
e would have words with the boy. “Well, what would you have done in my stead? The child is of my blood.”

Tjuya clicked her tongue.
I’d have kept my cock in my breeches for starters.
She wore a simple body length sheath of Theban linen. It was dyed a rich velvety black; unusual for her in that it played against the mode.
I make the modes now.
She smoothed the soft fabric tight against her curves, admiring the effect in a mirror of polished silver. She turned and glided towards him. “So ... it’s true then.” She glanced at Meira almost as if confirming something. “You prefer your whore to your wife ... you go to her still? Is she so much more to you than me?”

He paused in mid-step.
“I went to her but once, before we were wed and never since.”

“Never?”

“Not once,” he confirmed.

She turned to the window so he could not see her face.
By her choice or yours?
The city was a hive of activity, with near fourteen thousand slaves hard at work raising the new temple and repairing and enlarging the cities granaries. They needed to be enlarged to cope with all the new mouths. The Habiru were encouraged to work with ale and bread rather than flogged to it with flail and switch.
He had many strange notions. Perhaps the revolt in Palestine had spooked him a little.
He’d even gone as far as declaring they would have a day of rest, one day in seven – a day of the sun where they could gather and gaze eastwards to greet and offer thanks to Heliopolis’s rising god. That really was folly, but the slaves seemed to take the
Aton
with gusto. Their old gods, that cow or calf or whatever, had failed them totally, whereas the One God of Heliopolis showed pity and mercy for their plight. Perhaps it was part of her husband’s strategy to keep them in order.

She turned back.
“The poor girl is infatuated with you. I thought nothing of it at first, but now … well one could forgive suspicions that the feelings are not entirely unrequited.”

Her husband did not reply.

The oil lamp burned low, casting mellow golden shadows about them and hiding the anger in her eyes. She fingered the necklace; gold richly inlaid with semi precious stones and blue faience. He’d bought it for her in Memphis and had doubtless meant to save it for her name-day, but his deception had been exposed when he clumsily tried to hide it in their bedside dresser. She’d rewarded him well for it, and ever since her moon blood had not come.
A true born heir, not a whore’s bastard.

“It will be better for the child this way,” he said at length.

“Well haven’t you got a talent for the obvious?”

He frowned and she sighed.
C
hoose your battles.
“Oh I’m sorry, my love, I ... it was a shock that’s all. I cannot blame you for momentarily succumbing to weakness, a young guileless maiden in your power, swooning at your every word, a long journey from the Wildlands with no lady of quality near at hand. Most men would think not of a child born from such a coupling, but you are not most men, you’re a man of high honour and truly I love you all the more for it. It’s just-”

“You have an alternative then?”

She pursed her lips.
An old woman with potions and stick to root it out would suffice.
“I would have us do right by the babe,” she said at length. “It may grow in the belly of another, but some part of it is you, and I would love that part as I love you.”

Her eyes watered as she said
it and her husband could not help but go to her. Tjuya took his hand and held it tight. “I would not see a child of your blood suffer unjustly,” she whispered. “But the mother … ever does she give you eyes, ever does she try to turn you from me. She-”

Her husband released his grip on her before seating himself on a chair that was almost a throne. It was crafted from dark walnut and covered in faint devices and inscriptions dedicated to
Atum
,
Ra
and
Horus
of the horizon. “She will act as wet-nurse to the babe,” he said with authority. “And bodyslave when it comes of age.”

There was the briefest flash of anger in her eyes, but instantly it was gone. She glided towards him, placing her hands below her hips allowing them to slowly slide upwards, tracing the divine curves of her body beneath the thin black linen. She cupped her breasts, and allowed her tongue to play about her lips, her eyes refusing to leave his. “Light of my life, send her away, sell her in the Memphite markets and I
’ll make you happier than a thousand of her kind ever could.”
I shouldn’t have made the slut stay. I should have gotten rid of her when I had the chance.
“Give her safe passage to the Wildlands if you must, just send her away.”

“And
wrench mother from child? She deserves better than that.”

“She’s a slave!
” Her voice rose in sudden fury. “She deserves whatever we see fit for her!”

“And I see fit that she be bodyslave to the child
.”

It was like talking to the wall.
She stood before him fighting with herself.
I could yet bring you down, but then …
Abruptly the fiery anger dissolved. She knelt, her tongue once again tracing the course of her parted lips as she held his gaze. She slid a hand under his kilt and felt him stiffen.
He cannot resist me.
“We will rule Heliopolis together and bring glory back to its faded temples, we and our children. Let her go.”

She curled her tongue and gave him a look that would arouse a eunuch. He brushed a hand through her hair and smiled, for a second she believed she had him. “Do you want this, my love?” She slipped a finger into her mouth and sucked it. She turned her head a little to the
side, her eyes playing with his. “Or this?” She took his hand and guided it between her thighs. She giggled naughtily and returned to stroking him. “Or is there … something else that you desire of me?” She looked away then, seeming almost embarrassed, before returning promising eyes to his. “You … you can have it all my love, everything I have to give,” it was barely a whisper. “You can have it all … just … just send her away.”

He kissed her tenderly on the forehead and spoke softly, almost lovingly, but the words were not what she wanted to hear. “Do not waste further breath on the matter, my sweet, the decision is made and you will support me in it.”

She closed her eyes and felt a tear come,
a real tear
. She nodded slowly. “Tell me this much at least then,” she said quietly. “Tell me and I’ll say no more about it, tell me and I’ll raise the child and love it like my own ... tell me you love but one woman.”

“I love only one,” he said
simply. She opened her eyes again and they held his in a fiercely piercing embrace.
There is sadness in his eyes, and something else ... is it shame ... or is it pity?
“Then it is a child of lust, not love?”

He pushed her hand gently aside and rose rather abruptly. He made for the door, pausing a moment before he opened it. He spoke without meeting her eye. “How else can it be between master and slave?
”