Suzanne Robinson (29 page)

Pharaoh’s eyes lifted from Seth’s thundercloud countenance to Anqet’s distressed crimson face.

“Ah,” the king said. He leaned down to Seth’s ear. “But your interest lies elsewhere and has for quite a while.”

Seth appeared to come out of his rage and remember to whom he was speaking. “Forgive me, Majesty. The events of the past few days have robbed me of sense.”

Anqet felt her cheeks cool. What was wrong with Seth? He had almost declared their lovemaking to the divine pharaoh.

“Come, Seth,” Tutankhamun said. “My curiosity has been burning for too long. Admit your love for Lady Anqet, and we’ll arrange a contracting ceremony. It is feast season, the perfect time for it.”

Lifting her head, Anqet met Tutankhamun’s wide grave eyes. He knew! Anqet controlled her shock and tried to comprehend the unspoken message Pharaoh was sending her He remained on the couch, his jeweled hand resting on Seth’s shoulder, and sent a look of reassurance at her. What did the king intend?

It occurred to Anqet that Seth had said nothing. The count sat as if transformed into an obelisk.

“The lady Anqet and I are not betrothed, my king.”

“Why not?” Tutankhamun asked. He sat up. “Do you mean you’ve kept this noble lady in your house under questionable circumstances, and have made no offer? Seth,
Gasantra has seen to it that every artisan and peasant farmer in the Two Lands knows of your conquest.”

Anqet covered her face with her hands. In all her nightmares she had never dreamed of a humiliation so devastating as having her foolish love affair come to the notice of the divine pharaoh.

Tutankhamun’s anger increased. “This lady will not suffer further at your hands, my lord commander.” He stood up.

Seth and Anqet rose hastily. Tutankhamun glowered at his commander of chariots.

“I won’t force you to marry. As I warned you, the lady Anqet has engaged more than my gratitude.” The king clapped his hands.

The overseer of the audience hall slid into view.

“Take Lady Anqet to the women’s quarters. Tell the countess Ta-usert that this girl will become a royal concubine.”

“Majesty!” Seth roared.

“Be silent, my lord.”

Anqet stood in a daze while Minhetep approached. It was absurd. She? Become the concubine of the living god? It was incredible. The overseer herded her toward the door. So stunned she could hardly navigate, she went with Minhetep. One did not question the decision of Pharaoh, even if Pharaoh was a boy two years younger than oneself. At the door she looked back. On the terrace, Seth was kneeling at Tutankhamun’s feet, furious and supplicatory at the same time. Pharaoh shook his head.

The count’s voice rose to a snarl. “You can’t.”

Tutankhamun dealt the count a hard, backhanded blow across the face. Seth tottered to one side but recovered. Anqet couldn’t hear what he said. His face was hidden by the shining blackness of a court wig. Whatever passed between the two was over quickly. Pharaoh raised the count with his own hands, and indicated the chair opposite his golden couch. Seth sat down, his eyes veiled, his hands shaking as they rested on the arms of the chair.

“Lady Anqet,” Minhetep said. He held the door open.

Anqet went out. As she passed the man, she caught his look of amusement. That expression did little to reassure her She directed a cold stare at Minhetep and preceded him through the royal apartments.

Meeting Countess Ta-usert turned out to be one of the few cheerful experiences of the succeeding days. From the ruling family of the Hare nome, Ta-usert governed the concubines attached to Pharaoh’s household. Nearly of an age to be Anqet’s mother, the woman possessed the imperturbable good spirits and strong will needed to keep the large number of females and their offspring under control. The top of her head was even with Anqet’s nose, but Anqet could tell that there was more strength in that spare body than in some men’s.

Ta-usert received her in a chamber overflowing with blossoms and stocked with jars, vials, and pots containing eyepaint, lip color, and henna for tinting the hands and feet. The countess bid Anqet sit beside her on a couch.

“Amazing,” Ta-usert said. “Pharaoh sent you to me personally?”

“Yes.”

“Amazing.”

“I don’t understand,” Anqet said.

Ta-usert looked her up and down. “Amazing. He knows how to choose, does our young pharaoh. The first time he selects a girl, he chooses as fine an example of beauty as any since the old heretic’s queen.
Anqet.
Where have I heard that name? Anqet. Oh. Crocodile’s teeth! Lady Anqet.”

Anqet squirmed. Gasantra must have chattered herself hoarse spreading slander.

“I know what you’ve heard, Countess. Believe me. None of it is true.”

“Child, it doesn’t matter The king has chosen you.”

Ta-usert hopped to her feet and paced back and forth in front of Anqet.

“Finally,” the woman said. “I told that old prude Ay
three years ago it was time the king learned to take his pleasure. But he refused, did Father Ay.”

“Well, twelve is a bit young.” Anqet felt foolish and irreverent discussing the sexual habits of the god-king.

“Young? I was younger” Ta-usert stopped in front of Anqet and folded her arms across her breast. “Do you have any notion of how difficult it is to rule almost one hundred young women when the king they are supposed to serve is a child? For years there’s been nothing to do. Nothing. And then when the boy comes into his manhood, that fool of a regent Ay puts it into his head that his first duty is to the Great Wife Ankhsenamun. What a waste.”

Anqet giggled. Ta-usert snorted, then burst into laughter along with Anqet. Holding her stomach, tears streaming down her face, Anqet tried to make the countess understand.

“This is terrible,” she said.

“What’s terrible?”

“I don’t want to be one of Pharaoh’s concubines.”

Ta-usert stopped laughing. “Amazing.”

“I know,” Anqet said. She wiped her moist cheeks.

“You’re mad. You could be the first woman to bear a child to the living god. The charms of your Count Seth can’t compare to that honor.”

Ta-usert grasped Anqet by the arm and pulled her to her feet.

“Don’t be upset, girl. You haven’t a choice anyway. And it isn’t as if the king were ill favored. The beauty of the gods is in that one. Come along. You need a wash and food. We’ll talk. You can tell me about Count Seth, and I’ll tell you about His Majesty.” Ta-usert clapped her hands. “Things are going to happen at last. It’s obvious Pharaoh isn’t going to pine after the Great Wife anymore. My dear Anqet, you and I will introduce our beloved young Majesty to the realm of pleasure.”

“Oh no.”

The countess grinned at her and patted Anqet’s cheek.

“Amazing.”

After being washed, oiled, scented, and painted,
Anqet was taken to a wardrobe chamber stacked with see-through garments of every fashion. Ta-usert swept through the piles and snatched gowns. She threw them at Anqet as the girl padded after her.

“Well try these. There’ll be no problem trying to hide a fat belly on you. Oh, this is exciting. I haven’t had a new trainee in years.”

“Countess, please. I don’t want to be Pharaoh’s concubine.”

“Don’t say that,” Ta-usert warned. “You know better. Pharaoh has spoken.”

Anqet nodded. A black vulture of misery settled on her shoulder The only man she’d ever wanted had been such a stubborn fool that he’d gotten her into this mess. Seth loved her. She knew that now. He loved her enough to die in her place. Anqet cringed at the memory of Sennefer’s dagger at her neck.

Somehow, Seth had the idea that if they were husband and wife, their easy friendship would shatter. He had fastened on marriage as the catalyst for disaster, when she knew that a man and woman were like two gods in an unformed world. They could create or destroy their own realm. Her parents had built their own world, although Anqet realized that Rahotep and Taia had dwelt too much in their private kingdom. She needed no isolation in which to grow her love for Seth. Neither could she feed it on the barren ground of a less-than-honorable relationship.

Anqet pulled at the gossamer folds of a robe while Ta-usert fastened the drapes of the garment beneath her breast. The woman’s hands adjusted the pleats across her chest. A maid brought golden sandals.

Anqet moaned. “What am I going to do?”

“I’ll tell you what to do later,” Ta-usert said. “Right now, I want to get an idea of which stones look best on you. Thank Hathor your skin doesn’t have a yellow tint. Nothing seems to flatter yellow skin, and especially not gold. Here, try this.”

From a casket borne by two wardrobe girls, the countess produced a heavy broad collar of alternating
turquoise and malachite beads mounted in gold. A matching pair of bracelets went on Anqet’s wrist. A gold leather belt wrapped twice around her waist, then cascaded to her feet. A veil of sheet gold draped over the shoulder-length wig Ta-usert mounted on her head. Anqet held her head still. Her neck already strained with the effort to support the artificial tresses, the extra weight of the veil made her want to tear the whole edifice off her head. She reached up and started to lift the wig.

“Don’t touch,” Ta-usert said. She stepped back for a look. “Turn around, child. Don’t hold your head so stiffly. Let your muscles relax. Lift your chin. Oh, I was right. Look at those eyes. Blue reflects into them. And you can wear the court linen to perfection. Maybe a little henna on the breasts.”

“No,” Anqet said.

“It would make them show up more.”

“You’ve already got the gown pleated perfectly,” Anqet said. “It will ruin all your work.”

“True, true.”

The following days were spent in Ta-usert’s company. Anqet learned cosmetic formulas, court manners, the names of every royal official attached to the women’s quarters and of those who served Pharaoh. Through all the lessons, the countess spread tidbits of gossip. Prominent in the lady’s stories was the notorious and desirable Count Seth.

“Ah, I don’t blame you for succumbing to that one. Were I ten years younger—no, I wouldn’t have to be any younger I remember, last year Pharaoh asked to be taken to one of the fertility rites of the god Hap, and Seth agreed. They went in disguise, you see. Nearly tore the palace down to its foundations, did Vizier Ay. He didn’t like the idea of our pharaoh being initiated into the mysteries of the flesh by quite such a master as our count.”

In a repeat of the boredom of her days as a royal singer, Anqet endured her incarceration. She learned to dance. Not the free-flowing country dances of her home,
but sensuous dances involving muscles she seldom used. While she enjoyed the exercise, she dreaded the idea of performing such an exhibition for the young king. What was worse, during the long nights, she lay awake wondering if she was going to spend the rest of her life buried in this female, jewel-encrusted tomb. Only six days had passed, but Anqet felt as if she’d been dropped down a well and forgotten.

Staying with the concubines wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t been heartsick and damnably frustrated. She longed for the sight of her lover’s eyes, reed-green with passion as they looked at her She craved the feel of his body pressed against hers. The ladies of Pharaoh’s palace made her yearnings worse with their constant talk of men. Lord so-and-so was renowned for his virility. The overseer of the king’s architects kept five concubines incessantly with child. Prince Bakenkhonsu, whom Seth had exiled to Sile, had discarded his wife.

Sometimes it was hard for Anqet not to fall asleep. There were no books to read, no letters to write, no accounts to be done, no tenants to supervise. Nothing substantial to do. She could dance. She could sing and play instruments. She could talk to the other women. She could go for chariot drives or boat rides. She could scream.

On the afternoon of the sixth day of captivity, Anqet was again being outfitted by the countess Ta-usert. The woman had produced a floor-length shawl with a border of crimson gold and was adjusting the garment over Anqet’s gown.

“Yes, yes, I was right. Red-gold and the amethysts are perfect on you. If only your ankles weren’t so small. Those anklets wobble when you take a step.”

Anqet yawned. A maid came in and whispered to Ta-usert. The countess spun around like a desert wind and clapped her hands.

“It’s time. What luck that you’re dressed. Pharaoh commands your presence. Don’t gawk at me, child. Come along, and remember what I’ve taught you. Eagerness and innovation are all-important.” Ta-usert shoved Anqet through
a door behind which the overseer of the audience hall was waiting. The woman grinned at her “Amazing.”

Minhetep stuttered a greeting at her and stared. Anqet fidgeted with her collar. She patted the gold-wrapped strands of her wig.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Minhetep started. “No, my lady. No indeed. No. No.”

Too soon for Anqet’s liking, she waited on the same terrace where only a few days ago she had become a royal concubine.

“Amun-Ra, protect thy servant,” she prayed. “I beseech thee. Help me.”

A great tramping sounded outside the king’s study. Pharaoh entered, bringing with him the overseer of the audience hall, Divine Father Ay, Treasurer Maya, several chief prophets, priests, assorted fanbearers, bodyguards, generals, and orderlies. Anqet dropped to the ground while Minhetep whispered to the king. Tutankhamen waved his hand, and the flood of courtiers receded in silence. Anqet heard the youth approach. A slim brown hand wearing signet rings of the god-king grasped her arm and raised her.

“Greetings, Lady Anqet It’s warm; come inside.”

Tutankhamun placed her on a cushion opposite his lion couch. Slaves wafted tall ostrich-feather fans over the king. Goblets of cool beer were brought.

Tutankhamun took a long drink, then swept off the white-and-blue headcloth and accompanying serpent headband. He rubbed his temples. Anqet could see red lines where the heavy royal diadem had pressed at his temples. The youth winced when his fingers touched the pressure points. Forgetting her own anxiety, Anqet watched the boy try to alleviate the pain.

Finally she could stand it no longer She got up and stretched out a faltering hand. Tutankhamun’s eyes widened in surprise, but he allowed her to stand at his back, place her fingers on his temple, and smooth them over the mistreated skin. She traced delicate paths over the king’s
forehead. Anqet kept her own breathing steady and asked the king to do the same. She sensed a release of tension in the boy’s shoulders and arms.