Shiri (25 page)

III

Sometimes Tjuya imagined she saw him staring at his slut, a furtive peek or stolen glance when he thought his wife was not looking. He had done so again at the docks. It may have been his wife’s lips that he kissed, but it was the slut’s that he wanted.
Always the slut.

Did he go to her still? She doubted it.
He would have seen the marks.
They were faint, but there all the same.
Meira has grown careless of late.
Tjuya sighed. She did everything a good wife could to capture his heart. She offered witty conversation, humorous jests, moist lips, soft thighs and more. In their marriage bed she gave herself to him in whatever manner she thought would best please him, and more often than not he would do his duty, but she couldn’t help but feel that he took scant joy in it.

Worse than that, in the darkest shadows of her mind she could not but think, that when they joined their bodies it was not his wife that filled his thoughts.
The slut’s fault, always the slut’s fault.
He never initiated it. It was ever her that had to make the play, ever her that had to go to him. She could scarce remember the last time her husband had come to her with fire in his belly. He never lifted her in his arms, threw her to the bed and took her with passion and lust, never.
I have to make do with Jafar for that.

She bit her lip. They were ever arguing of late too, and it was always over
his
whore or
his
bastard. At first she’d been able to disguise her loathing for the girl, attempted to dote on her, attempted to be her mother. But as usual his slut had ruined it all. The slave always knew exactly how to steer her towards anger, always knew what to do to drive further wedges between her and the child. But still Tjuya had done her best to please husband and child both. She’d regularly kiss the girl in his presence, and spend much time teaching her needlework and the three stringed lyre when he was near. But the girl was so spoilt and aggravating that she’d always end up having to scold the brat for some misdemeanour, at which point the girl would run to him crying and complaining. And he of course would always take the brat at her word.

That too, was the slut’s fault.
Always that fucking slut’s fault.
Never did a week go by without the slave whispering lies and exaggerations in his ear. The bitch had lost him, yet was still determined to ruin his marriage, still determined to rob others of their happiness.

Oft had she seen the Habiru giving him eyes when she thought nobody was looking. Oft had she seen her sneak off to tell him of some new half imagined slight. And whenever she did so, he came to his wife with anger in his eyes, demanding explanations as to why she had disciplined the child, or why she had refused to spoil her rotten, or why she had neglected to bow to the brat’s every whim.
And then we argue.

His heart was so full of love for his bastard that he had no space left for his wife, nor even his trueborn son. But at last she had him wrong footed. At last she would be able to get rid of the little slut. And that’s what she was, a dirty little slut just like her mother. Meira had been right in that much.
Whore’s blood runs deep.

She’d watched her cavorting with the Habiru dog, seen her wiggling her hips at him and attempting to puff out her chest and give him an eyeful of her growing breasts.
Dirty, conniving little whore.
Tjuya smiled at her husband, her voice sweet as her Memphite Red. “She’s such a sweet, innocent thing, she deserves only the best. She would be the envy of every girl in the realm.”

“That’s not the point.” Josef said. “Amenophis could end up with a harem a hundred women strong. He’s already all but abandoned his first wife. You would have Tiye become naught but a plaything to be cast aside when someone younger and prettier comes along?”

“You saw the way he looked at her today. I don’t think he’ll be casting her aside any time soon. Besides, you know what they say of Gilukhipa; three years wed and no child to speak of, little wonder he’s done with her. If Tiye gives him a son or even a daughter she’ll be his first forever more.”

He shook his head. “I’ll hear no more on the matter.”

She sighed.
Why does he always have to be so stubborn?
“You have someone more appropriate in mind then? The Emperor of the Hittites perhaps? Or Memnon of Nubia is it?” She twisted her lip sarcastically.

“I haven’t given it much thought, nor will I for many years yet.”

She drifted towards him and placed a soft hand on his arm only for him to shrug it off. Her irritation grew. “Yes I hear Memnon seeks fresh meat for his harem,” she said airily. “A maid of Tiye’s complexion would play well against the darkling stock he’s accustomed to.”

She saw his anger rising and laughed at it. “Amenophis it is then, your daughter will prove her worth yet ... provided she learns how to please a man.”

Josef took a breath. “She is over-young. We might revisit the topic in a year or two ... perhaps, and I would learn more of this boy before I give my consent to any such marriage.”

“Nonsense! Was your whore so much older when you took her?” She saw his lip twitch and eased her tone a little. “Gilukhipa was a full year younger than Tiye is now. Besides, if I do say so myself, the girl has a pleasant look to her, though the gods only know where it comes from. Tall and slender with promising breasts and good hips for her age,
and that hair – so unusual, I’d wager none from Memphis to Thebes has such a colour. If you wait any longer, I fear the Co-Regent will want her for himself.”

Her husband clenched his jaw. “I will not have that.”

“Yes, I’d rather the son too, truth be told, or perhaps even Pharaoh himself. I hear Amenhotep grows bored of his current mounts.”

Josef stared at her coldly. “Never.”

She looked at him blankly. “But why not? I could write to the
grand vizier.
Papis is visiting Memphis as we speak. Word is he’s looking for a new bride for the Godking. He’s having a presentation of suitable candidates brought before Pharaoh for the feast of
Isis
.”

“You will not write to
him,
Tjuya. I promise you that.”

She sipped at her wine daintily. “They need only to be pretty, unspoilt maids of noble birth. He may decide on more than one, so even Tiye has a chance.” The look in her husband’s eyes was almost comical. “Amenhotep offers the girl’s weight in gold to the father of any he chooses to bed,” she paused, wondering if she should dare say it
.
“A fair exchange ... for a bastard.”

He spun, his eyes ablaze. He raised the back of his hand and for a moment she was almost afraid. She flinched. He’d never hit her before, and he didn’t now,
but that had been close … that girl must go
. He lowered his hand quickly, but his eyes remained cold as ice. “I’ve told you, Tjuya,
never
call my daughter that, never.”

She parried his sally with a smile. “Best wed her to Amenophis then. I grow forgetful in my dotage, and
if she remains here much longer...” She pouted at him, “Well, I can’t be held accountable for a slip of the tongue.”

The high priest clenched and unclenched his fists. “Young Rahotep of Dashur is a kindly sort and Tiye seemed to like him when last they met. I’ve no doubt he would treat her well. Perhaps in a year we could arrange another meeting and see if she likes the man he‘s become, then perhaps something could be arranged.”

She rolled her eyes and he paused as if seeking a way to sweeten the deal. “His house … his house is moneyed enough to maintain twenty battle tested men at arms and nearly a hundred slaves. She’d want for naught and would be just half a day’s ride from Heliopolis.”

“You realise of course that Rahotep’s grandfather was a fishmonger?”

“He was an exceedingly successful fishmonger.”

She turned from him.
“Honestly, my darling, you have no sense when it comes to that girl. Here I have an offer to wed our house to the throne, and you speak of twenty worn out sell swords as if they were a division of Companions.”

“The closer you get to the throne the nearer you are to the headsman’s axe.”

“An old wives tale, spread by high lords seeking to stunt the ambitions of their peers, the closer you are to the throne the nearer you are to wielding that axe, and just think, if Tiye serves her purpose well and bears him a son … well could you imagine what it would mean?”

He seemed to falter.
“A grandson on the throne ... he would let them go...”

She furrowed her eyebrows.
“What? Let who go?” he came out with the strangest things sometimes.

He shook his head.
“It … will be her choice, if she does not want to…”

“Oh what does a girl of barely fifteen summers know of such things? Did I have a choice? Did you?”

“No, but…”

She moved c
loser, taking his hands in hers. “It was not Amenophis alone that seemed enraptured at the port. Tiye likes
him
too; you cannot be so blind that you did not see that.”

She saw the admission in his eyes and smiled. She kissed him softly on the cheek and slid a hand between his legs. “And besides, if you wish it, we can still make another babe to sit on your knee
– we are not so old yet.” She allowed her dress to fall to the floor and turned to her shadow. “Leave us, Meira. I would be alone with my husband.” He was not as eager as she would have hoped.
Little new in that.
But he did not resist as she pushed him back on the bed and guided him into her.

IV

Dawn found him at his daughter’s door. Three soft knocks and Tiye bid him enter. She was sitting by her mirror, her bodyslave platting her hair. He caught himself wondering what it would be like if it was just the three of them, far away in the Wildlands or beyond.

His eyes passed silently from one to the other. If Shiri was the rich dark colours of earth and water, Tiye was the radiant fury of sky and fire. Where one’s was a soft beauty, hidden under frowns and scowls as once it had been hidden neath bruises and mud, the other’s was a raw, primal thing that filled the room, the house, the city itself, a beauty that could not be missed, a dangerous beauty.

Yet, for all that, it was not his crimson locked goddess that held his gaze. The slave turned as he entered and her eyes shot poison at him – there was hate in that look. He’d seen hurt, sorrow, fear and even love in those eyes, but never hate.
She’s told them already.
He’d wanted to be the one to break the news, wanted to broach it gently, his wife had known that, but still she’d gone to them.

Tiye offered him a massive and impossibly pretty smile. “I’m to be a princess! I’m to go to
Thebes!” It was almost a shriek. “And Amenophis promises one day he’ll make me his queen! Shiri says Gilukhipa is set to be his queen, but I know Amenophis tells it true.” She cast her bodyslave a dismissive glance.

Shiri smiled at her mistress, but Josef couldn’t help but think she directed her words at him. “Men promise many things, m’lady, and wanting them to be true does not make them so.”

Tiye paid her Habiru no heed as she rose from the chair. She was wearing the same dress as yesterday. “You wear that frock, overmuch,” he chided with a grin.

“Amenophis … he asked me to,” she said, a little embarrassed. “He wants to take me to see the sunset in the shadow of the Giants of Giza … can I ... can I go?”

He frowned. “Aye, well, as long as you take Shiri.” He’d not have the boy taking liberties.

Tiye beamed at him and all but fell into his arms as she planted an excited kiss on his cheek. “Amran wai
ts in the gardens,” he told her. “I did what you asked, though by rights there are others more deserving of the position.”

Tiye pulled
back looking a little confused. “Amran? … Oh yes, I forgot. I’ll tell him now!” She wanted to give Amran a special present before she left.

Her father let her go and she darted for the exit. He saw her pausing at the door, hands on hips, legs slightly apart.
So like her mother.
He was amazed nobody else ever appeared to see it. Tiye made an impatient noise between her lips as she waited for her bodyslave to follow.

“One mome
nt, m’lady, I’ll just clear the dresser.”

Tiye nodded and as quick as that was gone. Instantly the brightness seemed to go out of the room. Shiri stare
d at him with eyes like daggers. “You’ve sold my daughter,” she said with sudden venom. “Sold her for the ear of the future King.”

He gulped.
“She’ll live in the lap of luxury, a hundred servants at her beck and call. Amenophis will be good to her.”

“And Amenhotep?”

“Amenhotep? ‘Tis not Amenhotep she marries.”

She made a face.
“Even with streaks of silver in your hair you’re still young as ever. You know what they say he does. You think a beardless boy will have the strength to stop him?”

Josef paled a little.
“I … I had not thought.”

“Hadn’t you? … I wonder.” She turned and made herself busy tidying her mistress’s dainties. “I … I know you chose our people over me. I don’t blame you for it, it had to be done.” She didn’t soun
d like she believed those words. “But in my darkest nightmares I never imagined you’d choose anything over her.”

“I chose nothing over he
r,” he said. “Amenophis is his grandson, he will be king after him, Amenhotep would not dare … besides Amenophis loves her. You can see it in his eyes.”

“Love? What would
you
know of love?” Her voice sounded like nails scraping slate.

He frowned.
Why must you always be so bitter? I told you not to come to the Two Lands, but you would not listen. I offered to abandon it all and leave with you, but you would not have it.
“He’ll raise her high. She could be Queen one day. Nobody will ever be able to hurt her. I did what is best for her not just …” He moved as if to touch her arm but she stepped back.

“Don’t touch me … Yuya
.”
She backed away.

He sighed.
“You wish now that we had never met?”

His words took her off guard, and for a moment he thought he saw pain in her
eyes, but instantly it was gone. “How can you say that?”

He stepped closer again. “Then there is something there still?” He looked strangely hopeful.

She took a breath and suddenly she was holding his gaze. “No … nothing,” she paused. “It’s only… if we’d never met I would not have had her. She’s all that I care about now. I don’t care about
you
, I don’t care about
them
…” She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the slave quarter, “Just her.”

She doesn’t mean it.
“When Tiye leaves I’d like for you to stay. She won’t be gone for more than a few moons. Amenophis will want to return to Memphis within the year to help his father rule the Lower Kingdom. Amaris can be her bodyslave ‘till then … and you … you might take back your old room? Not the basement, the other one … to hell with Meira,” he smiled, “and perhaps we might…”

“When Tiye leaves I’m leaving with her.”

He stood there for a while, looking for all the world like a lost puppy. Finally she seemed to feel some pity and moved closer. He grinned and raised a hand to hers, but then he saw she was not coming to him, she was merely making for the door. She brushed past him and paused a moment, and then he felt it; her hand questing for his. It was a gentle caress, her fingers trembling as if she were fighting with herself. He wrapped his around hers and squeezed. Something passed from her palm to his. She allowed the touch to linger a moment before abruptly she withdrew. “I don’t want this anymore,” her voice seemed a little shaky. She turned and almost ran.

“Shiri wait
...”

She was gone. The crumpled rag paper felt heavy in his hand, stained and torn, but he could still read the crude glyphs. He’d all but forgotten it, how many years had she kept it secret, kept it hidden? He traced the figures with a t
entative finger. “Shiri,” he said quietly.

Tiye discovered Amran in the gardens. He’d been waiting for hours by the look of him and had a sour expression on his face. He offered her no friendly greeting, “Is it true then?”

Tiye chewed her lip,
news travels quickly.
“Yes, it’s true.”

Amran did not take that well.
“But what about me? What about us?”

There is no us, there never was.
“I meant to tell you sooner.” She made to change the subject and smiled, clearly delighted with herself. “I was speaking to Father about you … he’s agreed to make you leader of a hand! A whole hand Amran! You’ll have five Habiru under you! You’ll have a hut all to yourself and will answer only to the overseer!” She beamed at him, “You’ll live almost as a free man!”
             

Her gift did little to lighten his mood. “Live? Can a man live with
out his heart?” He moved closer. “Please, Tiye … don’t marry him. You don’t love him, you barely even know him.”

She took a little step back.
“His father sits the Red Throne. His grandfather wears the
Uraeus
Crown.”

“And that means so much to you?”

She sighed.
He’s only a Habiru. I can hardly expect him to understand.
“Oh Amran,” she opened her arms and hugged him.

When she went to break the contact he held her tighter. He could feel her softness through the linen; feel her perfect breasts pressing against his naked chest. He could smell the sweet lotus oil that moistened her skin, and see the vivid blue orchids that adorned her famed crimson mane. And
she
could sense his arousal. He was sure of that.

He had not held her thus since
that
day. And she was different now,
a woman
. He lost himself to her, his mind unable to think of anything but the moment. Too cruel that he should be the one to watch her grow and bloom only to see her drift ever further from him, too cruel that he should be the first to taste her lips and lose his heart while another would be the man to take hers. He kissed her.

“Amran that was not proper,” It was part giggle, part gasp. She drew back and attempted to push him away, but he would not have it. He held her almost roughly and made to kiss her again. Still half laughing she turned her head and lips met cheek.

“Amran, please ... you know what happened last time.” Weakly, she pushed at his chest and then she saw his eyes and was taken aback. There was a desperate, almost manic look in them. A little nervously now she tried to push him off more firmly. Her strength was as nothing to him.

Easily he pulled her closer. Again he made for her lips and again she turned, he found neck and cheek o
nce more. “Amran please,” he sought her mouth. “Amran stop it!” She twisted and wriggled, no longer laughing. She wanted to leave as friends, not like this. “Mother will see, don’t ruin it Amran.” His hand found its way to the small of her back, then darted lower and all at once his fingers were feeling and touching her most intimately private places. Finally her anger broke. “Amran enough!” Her knee thrust upwards and found him between the legs. He cried out and crumpled forward. She lost her balance and together they fell backwards onto the muddied bank of the Sunpool, he on top of her.

He saw her eyes grow moist and wide with fear or panic and all at once he was himself again, inst
antly regretful and apologising. “I ... I’m sorry, m’lady, I didn’t mean...”

She pushed him away angrily. He was just scrambling to his feet and offering to help
her up when they heard a voice. “What were you doing to my sister, dog?”

Tiye pushed away the slave’s hand and stood under her own power. She smoothed her blue dress unhappily,
it’s ruined
, dirty black mud splattered all down its back. She was close to tears. Her eyes shot fury at Amran before glancing sheepishly towards her brother.
How long had he been there?
He had his stick sword in hand and seemed of a mind to use it. “Answer me, dog, or you’ll answer to my father instead.”

“She ... she tripped ... I was just helping her up.”

“Liar!” Ay wacked the slave in the head with his sword. Amran stumbled but kept his feet. He was a little taller than Ay, a little broader about the shoulders. Ay stepped forward boldly, clearly enjoying playing the hero. For her twin he did not look much like her, dark hair, dark eyes, dark words. “Speak truly, dog. You meant to fuck my sister didn’t you?” Her brother whacked him again, square in the face this time. Blood spurted from crumpled nose and severed lip. The slave went down. “Or have you fucked her already, is that it?” He turned to her. “Do you play the bitch for this dog?”

“Ay stop it!
It’s as he said, I slipped and...”

“And he suggested you grab his cock to balance you
rself?” He turned for the villa. “Mother won’t be happy. She’ll probably cut it off!”

“If you tell her, I’ll tell Father that you ... that you pushed me into the mud!”

Ay paused; she was ever their father’s pet, able to wrap him around her finger with a single pout, just like she could with all the
ghaffirs
and
sun priests alike.
And if she pretends to tears again and names me the cause.
Well, it didn’t bear thinking about. He shrugged as if the matter concerned him little, and turned to leave the pair at their business. “Suit yourself then.”

Tiye hurried after her brother, slipping past the slave without looking at him. She only glanced back as she entered the villa. He was sitting in the mud, nursing his wounds and looking sorry for himself. Her words stung more than her brother’s stick ever could. “Amran … you’re never to visit me again.”