Shiri (34 page)

XV

Dawn was in his eyes when squinting to the south, he saw the sail. The ship bore the blue and gold devices of the Royal House but no word of its coming had preceded it. Nevertheless, a few solemn votaries were on hand to toss pale lilies into the waters, as silent but for the soft splashing of oar and anchor it drew up by the docks. A woman was on deck – some lady of the Royal House by the look of her. Her face was hidden behind a thin shawl of Theban cut, but despite that it was clear that she was not staring at the docks.

Her gaze travelled further afield, out across the white towers of the Temple District and further still, off past the red Memphite Desert towards the far distant Wildlands where sand and rock met sun and sky. Her dress was a frothy excess of lace and linen that played about her like a thing half alive. As she moved it swished around her ankles, glinting pink and amber against the light of a rising god. When she turned towards the gangway the insistent morning breeze took hold of the shawl and for a moment the pale and precious visage beneath was revealed. Quickly the lady caught it and covered herself once more.

Josef took a breath. “Shiri!” He launched himself forward like a hound from the traps.

Old Solon caught his arm.
“You’ve led this one a merry chase for long enough. Her heart is not to be played with anymore. I’ll not have you give her lover’s eyes and secret smiles just to turn around and bed another woman in the room above her head.”

Josef
paused and looked at her again. “You know as well as any, I had little choice...”

“But a choice all the same, and you made it, now I say let it rest. If I see you bring her to tears again you’ll have me to deal with, and
no mistake.” He met Josef’s eye. “There are other men, slaves all, but thanks to you in Heliopolis that is not such a bad thing. Many and more speak of Shiri and would do well by her, why young Eli
is five years her junior but ever does he glow crimson and look to his feet when she is near. He’s a handsome lad is Eli. And Nun, the stonecutter, deems her a queen amongst slaves, twice before you refused him permission to court her. You mean to deny her not only yourself but every other man too?”

“You would have me give Old Nun permission to ask for Shiri’s hand?” Josef looked horrified, “What point in that? I doubt she even knows he exists. She’d have no desire to wed him.”

“Aye,” Solon said, “belike your right, but still, is that not
her
choice?”

Josef s
hook him off a little irritably. “Aye, fine then, have it your way, Old Nun can ask her all he wants.”

Solon looked on as Shiri descended the gangplank. “And young Eli?”

“And Eli,” Josef said.

Even through the shawl, Solon
could see her expression change when she saw
him
. He saw her pause and struggle to remain aloof before yielding and breaking into a quivering smile. Solon shook his head,
small chance any other has there.
Again, he caught Josef’s arm as the high priest made to go to her and this time the man spun, clearly angry, “Damn it, Solon I…”

“Promise me this at least.” The old bowyer sounded resigned, “Be the man she fell in love with, not the man she left.”

The captain introduced her as Nebet
of Abydos, a distant cousin of Tiye herself. Josef and Solon had looked at each other then, but nodded obligingly. Once the ship and crew were left behind, Shiri allowed herself to relax, but all the same she found herself talking only to Solon. She offered Josef little more than the occasional sideways glance, but when they reached her old gardens behind the Sun Temple, the bowyer had found reason to excuse himself and leave them alone.

After that the conversation grew stilted and awkward. She wanted to shout at him, scream at him, hit him,
kiss him
. Instead they talked of Tiye. “Two moons maybe three,” she answered quietly. “Yes, she’s happy. He favours her above all others and is to name her Queen at his coronation.” Her mood darkened when his questions switched to her unexpected return and darkened further still when he asked what she knew of Pharaoh’s murder. “He kissed the wrong lady,” she said and would say no more.

He nodded, stared into the Sunpool for an age and turned to her, “Young Amran requested permission to ask for Yocobel’s hand. I gave it.”

She looked at him strangely. “That boy declares love for anything lacking a beard, yet still you gave your consent for him to ask for her hand? She deserves better.”

He bit his lip.
“Aye, well I’m no Gypto and I’ll not deny my people the right to chose. And truth be told, I’ve never seen the pair happier.” He paused as high above, the mellow song of a lark welcomed the ever climbing sun. From the depths of the gardens a tender response came from its mate. He sighed,
life is simple for the birds.
“Amran is not the only one to have come to me with such requests.” He turned to her, “Old Nun asked permission to court
you
.”

“Nun?” she looked confused, “The stonecutter?”

“Aye, he requested permission before you left for Thebes and no doubt when he discovers you’re back he’ll ask again.”

“And you mean to allow it?” She didn’t appear overly pleased with the prospect.
             

“Aye, we
ll as I said ‘tis not for me to...”

“Do
you
want me to marry him?” Her voice sounded a little strained.

He looked away. “I … I just want you to be happy. S
olon reckons young Eli may also…”

She turned from him and made a face that he could not see. “I could never be happy if I loved one yet married another. I … I think perhaps we are different in that.” She moved swiftly away from him without looking back.

She heard his footsteps behind her, felt his hand on her shoulder. “What
would
make you happy, Shiri? Is there nothing I can give you? Nothing you want?”

Something was in her eye. She brushed it quickly away before fisting him in the chest. “Sometimes I think you’re the stupidest man in the whole bloody
Lower Kingdom.” She turned again and quickened her pace.

He didn’t let her get far. He grabbed her arm and spun her about. He knew what she wanted, what she had always wanted. He grinned that old grin of his, looked to the heavens for a moment and returned his eyes to hers, “To hell with it,” he said. He pulled her to him. “No. I don’t want you to marry him. And no … we are not so different.”

He tried to kiss her. She turned her cheek. “Please … please don’t … not again … I can’t … I can’t take this game anymore.”

He ignored her, brushed a hand through her hair, turned her face to his and kissed her. She couldn’t find the strength to resist him, she could never find the strength, but this time at least her trembling lips refused to part for his. He drew back a little. She was in his arms making no effort to push him away but opposing him with passivity all the same. She was staring at him with the strangest look in her eyes; they seem
ed half despairing half hopeful.
She wants me to say it,
needs me to say it.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I … I love you, Shiri.”

He s
aw her gulp, saw her eyes water. “But…”

He put a finger to he
r lips. “And nobody is going to keep us apart anymore. I swear it.”

Tjuya found them in each others arms. They were wrapped together under the great willow, their reflections playing in the Sunpool. In half a daze she watched her husband push the Habiru back against the bough, listened as he made her sigh and gasp with a pleasure and passion that his wife had never known. Their lips were crushed together, his hands everywhere. She could sense the warmth of their bodies, feel the strength of their love. The whore was saying a name. Again and again she was saying it
– and the name was not ‘Yuya’.

“Th … thank you, Meira,” a gesture sent the slave away. Tjuya took a faltering step towards them, but still they didn’t seem to hear. The slave jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping tightly around him. He pushed her skirt higher, a hand fumbled briefly under his kilt. Tjuya knew when it happened. A moment the slave’s mouth left his. She gasped, proclaiming her love in shallow rapid breaths before finding his lips again. Once more their lips briefly parted and he answered in kind. Only when at last their movements slowed and hot earnest kisses turned to a soft lingering embrace, did his wife’s senses begin to return. She heard the whore say
that
name again, saw her find his lips again, watched as they held the kiss, held it for what seemed like an eternity, their mouths and tongues engaged in the slowest, closest of dances. And then Tjuya heard her own voice, horrified by how harsh and ugly it sounded, “I see your whore has returned.”

In a single rapid movement her husband let his whore go and spun red-faced. The slut fumbled with her skirts and attempted to pull her bodice back into place and cover a partially exposed breast. All the while the Habiru looked to her with wide eyes, a mixture of shock and fear on her face. Yuya stuttered and stumbled, “I … I had not thought you were returning ‘till noon.”

His wife spoke impassively, “That much is obvious.”

He glanced to his whore. “I … I’m sorry, Tjuya. I … I had not mean
t for you to find out like this…” His words petered out and ended in a shrug. “I’m sorry.”

“Find out what? That you like fucking whores? Fine then, fuck all the whores you want, see if I care.” She pointed at Shiri, “Any whore save that one.”

“She’s not a whore … and…”

“Send her away!” she screeched. There were tears in her eyes now, “Send her away! Sell her! Auction her off in the Memphite markets!”

Yuya stepped forward and his wife threw herself into his arms. She glanced at the slut over his shoulder. “This … this must end,” she whispered just loud enough for the slut to hear. “You must choose,” she said, “your wife or your whore. Sell her, or smuggle her to freedom in the Wildlands if you must. I don’t care anymore, just be rid of her. She’ll fair well enough, her type always do. She’ll fuck her away across the Wildlands and like as not shack up with the first old shepherd that prefers her to his sheep.
”

Her husband held onto to her for a moment. She sniffed back a tear and peered accusingly at the slave. For a moment the slut looked like she expected him to push his wife away. When he didn’t she took half a step forward as if she meant to move and try to take him from her. Tjuya plunged in and kissed him. All the while her eyes fixated on the whore. When he didn’t instantly break the kiss she saw the Habiru’s shoulders slump. Tjuya allowed herself to smile as the whore lowered her head and turned silently away. She began walking slowly towards her old basement.

Yuya placed his hands about his wife’s arms and stepped her back. He looked over his shoulder. “Shiri wait.” The slave didn’t stop and then to Tjuya’s shock her husband left his wife’s side and ran after his whore. She stared after him, open-mouthed. He took the slave by her hand and whispered something into her ear. Together they turned. And then the slut met her eyes, met them and for the first time since the day they first met, half a lifetime before, she held them.

“I’m not sending her anywhere,” he said slowly.
“I’m sorry, Tjuya but…”

Tjuya’s breath came in an
guished pants. “You …. You mean…”

“I’ll move into the eastern cloister, or … or if you prefer you can live in your father’s old villa.”

She said nothing, just stood there hot tears and cold anger warring in her eyes.

He grimaced feeling upset and annoyed with himsel
f. “Tjuya … I’m sorry … you bear no fault in this. I know you did your best with Tiye and you … you were a devoted mother to our son, and I … I tried Tjuya … I did try.” He looked pained. “I did everything you asked of me but...”

“No,” she said slowly, “you did not.” She glared at him and in
that glare hurt turned to hate. “You did not love me.”

XVI

Queen of Egypt, mother of the heir, daughter of slaves, she had achieved and learned much in a few short moons, but it was the babe alone that gave her cause to smile. The infant had come early, a little too early for the gossips liking, but it was strong, it was healthy and it was a boy. She took him to her breast as she relaxed in the Water Gardens. It was the first time since the birth that she’d ventured outside and Gilukhipa had been waiting.

The Princess of
Mitanni offered her no smiles. Amenophis had made his decision official at the coronation when he declared that the Beautiful One was to be his first, his queen. Gilukhipa was mentioned only in passing and not even by name. He had referred to her simply as ‘the
other
one’. She refused to bow or curtsey as she spoke, “So … I suppose I am to grovel like a slave and call you ‘your majesty’ now?”

Tiye smiled at her and shook her head, “I know we’ve had our differences, Gil, but I hope we can put them behind us. I’d like for us to be friends.”

Gilukhipa answered her with a cultured look the highborn saved for their piss pots. All the same, she composed herself enough to take a breath and make some clucking noises over the infant. Tiye smiled appreciatively. “He has his father’s nose don’t you think?”

Gilukhipa leaned in, inspected him closely, then rose to meet the Queen’s eye. “His eyes are blue.”

“As are mine … and my fathers.”

“But not Amenophis’s, nor any of his line,” Gilukhipa said. S
he shrugged and leaned in again. “So big and healthy,” she smiled, “and you barely eight moons wed.”

“He has greatness in his veins,” Tiye explained cautiously.

Gilukhipa fingered her lip before edging towards the nursing mother’s ear. “You really mean to claim he’s trueborn then? Why half the palace knows you gave your maidenhead to a blue eyed Habiru boy in Heliopolis ‘ere you left. That would be what? Nine moons past?”

Tiye sighed.
“My husband always said your tongue is good for naught but discourtesies. It seems he has the right of it.”

Gilukhipa pulled back and offered her que
en a look of undisguised hatred. “True enough it lacks the experience of yours. How often did my lady’s tongue seek lessons from Old Amenhotep? How many Habiru mouths has it danced in? Just that boy of rumour or was there more?”

Tiye made an unpleasant face.
She’s just a jealous bitch with nothing left to cling to.
“Amenophis gives it all the practice it needs. You remember him don’t you? I hear he kissed your cheek just last winter.”

Gilukhipa chewed her lip. “Yes, we all know he tastes you long and often. He must like the savour of his grandfather’s cock.”

The Habiru about them fell silent at that, some sought to make themselves inconspicuous, others suddenly remembered pressing matters further afield. Tiye reddened with mounting anger.
I’m his first wife now, his queen. She cannot speak to me as such.
She adjusted the babe in her arms
,
looked at the woman coldly and plunged. “Your conversation is dull and lifeless as your womb. Tell me are all barren women as tiresome as you?” She yawned deliberately loudly, “Small wonder my husband shows you his back. I think it’s best you leave, lest you put me to sleep with your platitudes.”
Tiye met the woman’s gaze imperiously and saw something she had not thought to see.

Gilukhipa opened her mouth as if to reply, but the sudden water in her eyes put an end to that. Heatedly she wiped away an unwan
ted tear and this time curtsied. “As you say … my queen.”

Tiye felt suddenly guilty.
“Gil wait, I didn’t mean…”

Gilukhipa paused and spoke softly. “You should not apologise for speaking truth.” She gave Tiye a defeated smile before fumbling for something inside her robes. She withdrew a small lace crest emblazoned with the
Uraeus
Crown of the Two Lands and the twin rivers of the Empire of Mitanni. It was quite exquisite, all blue and gold. “I made this for him,” she said quietly. “I thought he might … wear it for his coronation but … he would not see me.” She shrugged. “With my grandfather having passed in the winter, Amenophis comes into lordship over all the lands of my forefathers. It was the price of peace with Tuthmosis the Great.” She passed it to the Queen. “Will you … will give it to him?”

Tiye nodded slowly as Gilukhipa turned for the river dismissing her bodyslave with a gesture. “It’s alright, Aseneth. I wish to bathe alone today.” She gave Tiye a lingering backward glance as the Queen fingered the fabric and stared after her.

Tiye sighed.
Gilukhipa is not ugly.
She had been wrong in that
.
But neither was she a goddess that caught the eye, she was a woman, just a woman. A princess of Mitanni taken from her home while yet a girl, a child bride sent to wed a boy prince who loved his horses more than her. He had gone to her a few times in the first years, more through duty than desire, but no babe had resulted from his efforts and soon enough his visits ceased. For the better part of a year she’d slept alone. And now, not three moons past her nineteenth name-day she was finally utterly cast aside for a younger, prettier creature that had it all so easy – a younger, prettier creature that gave him sons. Tiye rose to go after her. “Gil, wait, please, I … I’m sorry…”

Trumpets announced Pharaoh’s sudden approach. The noise made the baby cry. Amenophis was all smiles when he came up behind her and took her in his arms, his lips quick to find her cheek. “Leaving so soon, my love?” The words came between kisses. The babe seemed to take issue with this rival for his mother’s affections and the tears turned to a wail. Amenophis stepped back, still smiling, “We named him well; father said when Tuthmosis the Great opened his mouth even the seas themselves gave ear and parted at his command.”

Tiye nodded,
Tuthmosis.
Like the Dreamer and the warrior before him. Shiri had told her much of the warrior’s exploits in Palestine before she left. He was great alright, great at bringing death and destruction, great at forcing whole nations into bondage. The name had not been Tiye’s choice.

Amenophis grinned.
“What’s this?” He took Gilukhipa’s crest from her. “You made this?” He sounded almost incredulous. “I didn’t know you were so skilled. By the gods, it’s gorgeous! You should have given it to me sooner so I could have worn it for my coronation!” He took the excuse to move in and kiss her again, despite little Tuthmosis’s opposition.

His queen shook her head.
“Gilukhipa made it. To remind you that with the death of her grandfather the duel crown now takes dominion over the lands of her forefathers.”

“Oh.” He paused a moment, befor
e laughing and shrugging in one. “I need no scrap of cloth to remind me of the lesser nations we have for vassals.” He tossed it to one of his attendants without a further glance.

Tiye didn’t laugh with him and he gave her a quizzical look. “I never wanted to wed her,” he said solemnly. “They could have married her off to any noble seeking to improve his status with a bit of royal blood, but instead they forced the burden on me.”

Tiye chewed her lip, glancing briefly to where the sad figure of Gilukhipa had disappeared amidst the rushes.
Will that be me when the next ‘Beautiful One’ catches his eye?
“You … you should not speak of her like that, whether you willed it or no, she is still your wife. You should speak kindly of her or others will take your lead.”

Amenophis sighed a little irritably a
nd sought to change the subject. “Wait ‘till you see what you’re getting for your next name-day! Even now, I have four thousand Habiru and thrice as many freeborn labourers hard at work on it!”

She smiled b
riefly before lowering her gaze. “You give me power and title, you give me the mightiest ship on the river, and now you have what? Sixteen thousand men...” she raised her eyes to his, “You should give her something too. If nothing else it would please the lords of Mitanni and help keep our northern borders strong. Mitanni is vassal in name only. They could just as easily choose the path of war.”

He laughed and turned to his vizier. “Already does my queen seek to strengthen our standing abroad!” Papis nodded without smiling. Am
enophis took her hand playfully. “Alright my love, how about we give her the Water Palace on Elephantine?” He grinned and moved to her ear. “You don’t want the competition hanging around here is that it?”

Papis made a d
isapproving noise in his throat. “You would send her away just because this one wishes it so?”

Amenophis grinned at him before
raising his voice dramatically. “The Red Queen does not wish! The Red Queen commands!” He gestured to a scroll of tanned papyrus in the priest’s hands. “Hurry on then, man. Your queen has spoken! See that her will is carried out!” Papis scribbled something onto the papyrus obligingly.

“There,” Amenophis said, sounding rather pleased with himself as once again he lowered his voice and returned to her ear. “The old bat can rule the Water Palace with an iron fist and practice her needlework ‘till her heart’s content.”

Tiye made a face. “That’s not exactly what-” she was interrupted by a running messenger. He cut a path through the royal attendants and went to his knees before Pharaoh, “A message from Smenkaure, Sire. It is as we-”

Amenophis cut the man off with a sharp look. “I’ll take it in my private chambers,” he said with a furtive glance in Tiye’s direction. He offered his son a parting smile and blew his wife a kiss before following quickly after the man.

Tiye stared after him a little plaintively.
He holds gifts in one hand and secrets in the other.
She shook her head dismissing the thought.
He’s just busy.
He was Pharaoh now, sole Pharaoh with no Co-Regent to help him rule, small wonder his responsibilities were mounting, he couldn’t keep her informed of every little thing.

She closed her eyes and relaxed in the sun. Tuthmosis had settled once more and she held him protectively. “You’ll be remembered long after the one they call, Great,” she promised before drifting into a light and fitful sleep. She awoke to screams.

Aton
had turned the river crimson and gold when the body was sighted. Aseneth’s wails brought her rushing to the water’s edge. By the time she arrived half a dozen slaves were already surging out into the waters. But they were too late, far too late. Tiye raised a hand to her mouth.
No, please no.
Pale and nauseous the Red Queen stood stricken as face down in the Tears of
Isis
, a princess of Mitanni floated by.