Suzanne Robinson (7 page)

Anqet squinted as Seth turned and lamplight flashed on the gold-and-silver collar that draped his shoulders. She noticed that even at this social gathering he wore a dagger at his belt. Anqet tried to keep her eyes on the blade instead of its wearer. The hilt of the weapon was decorated with an intricately beaded design of gold. The sheath glittered with midnight-blue lapis lazuli and green malachite inlay. Anqet’s gaze traveled down the hilt to the firm muscle of a thigh, then flicked back to the count’s face when he made a sudden movement.

Seth bent to catch Gasantra’s words as the woman nestled close to his side. Anqet ducked her head behind the frame of the harp when he turned to glance at the musicians. When Gasantra clapped her hands three times,
Anqet swallowed hard and ran her fingers across her instrument. Her voice pierced the laughter and murmurs that hung in the room. Its strength and clarity, raised this time to command attention, brought instant silence. Seth raised his head.

He saw her. A puzzled frown made him seem quite forbidding. He ignored the whispered conversation around him, intent on the singer’s voice. Gasantra smiled up at him, pleased with the success of her offering. When Seth moved toward the musicians’ alcove, she clung to him. He seemed not to notice her company, so absorbed was he in the song. Gasantra’s smile widened at this unlooked-for success and nestled close to the count, pressing her small breasts to his chest.

Anqet wished the man would pay attention to his hostess and stop that scarifying stare. She sang:

Never had a song seemed so endless—or so embarrassing. Anqet lowered her eyes to the floor as a flush crept up her neck to her face. Her glance flitted to the count as the song ended. He was smiling maliciously at her. She blushed a deeper red and curled her fingers in the strings of the harp in annoyance. Seth swept a heated look over her body, then turned to answer Gasantra’s impatient tug on his arm. Anqet sighed with relief as the lady swept him away with her to accept the greetings of new arrivals.

Unsure whether the count had recognized her, Anqet tried to quiet the hammering of her heart. It was rumored that his eyes held dark magic, that he needed no love-charms because of them, and that he used his power shamelessly. Perhaps he looked at all women that way. Yes,
that was it. She needn’t worry. Oh no. He was coming back, this time without Lady Gasantra. Anqet’s hands stilled on the harp. One of the hired musicians took up her part in the tune without hesitation.

She pushed the instrument from her and was about to rise and flee when she saw a man slide up to Count Seth. A group of tipsy young lords swayed past and blocked her way. Suddenly the two men were before her. The older man had eased Seth back against a bronze winestand to the side of the alcove entrance. Anqet could see and hear them, but Seth and his companion were absorbed in their conversation and took no heed of their surroundings.

“Younger brother, I haven’t seen you since you returned from Sile,” the companion said.

When she heard these words, Anqet looked at the newcomer curiously. Had she not been in such a frenzy, she would have noticed the resemblance between the two men. This had to be Sennefer, Count Seth’s half brother. Tamit had told her Sennefer was a few years older than Seth, and it seemed to Anqet that the gods had fashioned a classic Egyptian version of the lean good looks of the ruler of the Falcon nome. Only a finger’s width shorter than Seth, Sennefer had the-same high cheekbones and long muscles of his brother. Like his brother, the older man resembled the perfectly proportioned sculptures of pharaohs she had seen in the temples and shrines in Memphis. Yet there were differences. Sennefer’s skin was darker, his lips thinner, his eyes less hawklike and satirical.

Sennefer addressed his brother in gentle tones. “I want to talk to you about Khet. Our dearest stepmother tells me you’ve promised to take him on campaign against the Bedouin if war comes. The boy is too young.”

“Have some wine, Sennefer. You look thirsty.”

Seth plucked an alabaster goblet from a table and thrust it into his brother’s hand. He took a step away from the man, but Sennefer put an arm out to block him. Seth sighed and leaned back against the wall beside the alcove, an expression of boredom on his face.

“I want Khet to enter the House of Life here in Thebes,” Sennefer said.

“Why this sudden interest in your youngest sibling?” Seth asked. “You’ve ignored the boy since he was born.”

Sennefer lowered his head. “Mother died with his birthing. You know that.”

“Spare me the story,” Seth said. “It wasn’t Khet’s fault.”

“I want him to study with the priests of Amun. The second prophet has consented to guide Khet’s studies personally.”

“Ah!” Seth grinned at his brother. “We come to the truth. You want to throw Khet to the priests as a living offering. A rich and well-connected pupil to be molded into a pasty-faced, sniveling devotee of the Hidden One. Another docile servant who will spend his fortune and his influence to further the temple’s already overweening power.”

Anqet shrank back in the alcove in horror at the blasphemous words. Evidently Sennefer was used to his brother’s sacrilege, for he endured the mocking words without losing his temper.

“As a priest of Amun-Ra, Khet’s future would be assured, and he would be safe from the hardships and dangers of warfare.”

Seth straightened and pushed himself away from the wall. He laughed a quiet yet derisive laugh. “Khet is not priest material.”

“All good men are servants of the great god. They hold in their hands the harmony and balance that rules the Two Lands.”

“Bareka! You depress me with your piety, Sennefer. You forget. I know you well.” In a flash Seth snatched his brother’s wrist in a cruel grip. “I know you, pure-blooded brother. I remember the year of the high flood and the wild-bull hunt.”

“That was an accident.” Sennefer jerked his wrist, but it stayed imprisoned in Seth’s hand.

“Was it?” Seth asked. Thick lashes swept down to
conceal the expression in the count’s eyes. In a suddenly exhausted voice, he went on. “Was it? I thought so at the time.”

Seth released Sennefer’s wrist, brushed past the man, and joined the equerry Dega and Lady Gasantra. Lord Sennefer moved away too, and Anqet considered the scene she had just witnessed. How blessed she had been in her family, surrounded by love; it had never occurred to her how terrible its lack would be. Seth’s family was divided by rival allegiances and old hurts, divided by the lineage and power that made it great. She’d rather be an obscure, modestly prosperous farmer. She missed Nefer, Bastis, and Nebre, and was beginning to miss even Oubainer. Pleading fatigue, Anqet slid out of the alcove and headed for her room.

In her chamber, Anqet discarded her jewelry and wig, scrubbed her face, and combed her hair. It was late enough that no one would miss her services. Soon the guests would all depart. Gasantra would be occupied with Count Seth.

That woman
, Anqet thought. She made rapid strokes through her hair with the wooden comb.
Such behavior. Rubbing herself against him. Running her hands over him.

Anqet blushed when she thought of them together. Why was she so shocked? Gasantra hadn’t been the only woman at the feast to exhibit herself, but she was the only one who made Anqet want to stuff her down a cistern.
Why didn’t she just drag him to her bed and be done with it?
Anqet slammed the comb down on the cosmetic table and drummed her fingers against it. The room was stuffy, and she was hungry.

With a snort, Anqet set out for the kitchen. After a small meal she took a pastry and wandered toward the rear of the compound. Most of the people still about were cleaning up inside the house. She paused to eat her pastry and wash her hands with water from a storage jar, letting the breeze cool her wet skin. Relaxing, Anqet strolled toward the granaries, sat down on a mud-brick bench, and stared
up at the sky. The red star was visible. Called Heru-Khuti, its god was Ra. The moon hung in the sky; it burned white and full.

“Singer.”

Startled, Anqet whipped around to face Count Seth. He had discarded his outer robe and wore a kilt and sandals. Standing in the darkness of the granary looking up at him, she could barely make out his face, but she could see that he was smiling.

He purred. “So the street urchin is a singer. We have unfinished business.”

Anqet stood and cleared her throat. He was between her and the house. She must play her part and get rid of him.

“I beg forgiveness, my lord.” She bowed. “I was thoughtless.”

“Forgiveness. Oh, yes.”

The count moved toward her. Anqet took a few steps sideways as a precaution. Seth hesitated, then spread his arms wide.

“I intend you no harm, girl,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Anqet, my lord.”

Seth pulled her down on the bench with him. She could see him clearly now. His eyes were fastened on her face with that unnerving intensity, but his body was relaxed. He gestured to a place beside him. Anqet shook her head and stayed where she was. He leaned on his arm so that he was closer to her.

“I am called Seth.”

“I know.”

“So you’ve heard of me?” Seth sighed. “I see. Alas, this city is a nest of evil tongues.”

“My lord, I am needed in the hall.”

Seth shook his head. Soft hair swayed and cast shadows on his face. Anqet stood, but in one easy movement he was against her, holding her hand in his. Anqet tried unsuccessfully to free her hand, her fear growing steadily with
the seconds. Seth turned her hand and traced a line from her wrist up the length of her arm with his fingers. She shivered.

“There is no need to be frightened. I have forgiven you.” He pulled her close. His arms held her firmly but gently. Anqet placed both hands against his chest and pushed; his arms tightened around her. “Easy, my little goddess.”

Anqet twisted in Seth’s arms. She tried pushing with her trapped hands again, but that only forced the lower part of her body against him. Seth braced his legs apart, put a hand on the back of her neck, and captured her lips with his. Her startled cry was cut off in her throat. Anqet’s eyes widened as she felt his tongue inside her mouth. He kept one hand at her neck, but the other traveled lazily across her back, down to her hip and leg, and back up to press her buttock.

Anqet felt a slow building of fire in her veins. It spread everywhere Seth touched and to the places where their bodies melded. The count released her lips only to spread kisses over her eyes, cheeks and neck. She could hear his breathing quicken. His skin was as hot as her own. Her hands roamed over the smooth skin and hard muscles of his back and shoulders. Seth shifted his weight. Running his tongue down her neck, he slipped his hand inside her robe and cupped her breast. His mouth fastened over her nipple.

Without thought she wrapped her arms around Seth and pressed her breast into his mouth. He caressed her hips and belly. His hand travelled lower, and there was a strange sensation between her legs where his hand had roamed. What was this feeling? Seth slipped his hand beneath the skirt of her gown and stroked the inside of her thigh. His fingers drew a line of delicious torment up to the hidden place between her legs and nearly drove her mad.

It was this madness, this unexpected torture of pleasure, that drove Anqet from passion to panic. As Seth’s hand touched her, she started and cried out. Immediately the count lifted his head and caught her before she could
wriggle away. He murmured soothing words to her, but Anqet was frightened, frightened of passion and of him. She fought him, her struggles growing more violent when they proved useless. Seth swore under his breath and twisted both her arms behind her back.

“By the gods, what ails you? You wanted me a moment ago.”

“Let me go!” Tears of fright welled up in Anqet’s eyes. No! She mustn’t cry. She was angry. How did he dare try his seductive tricks on her in the house of his lover? He had no right to approach her. No right at all.

Seth held her against him and peered at her. His breathing was ragged, and she could feel the tension in his body. All at once, a cynical smile curled his lips.

“I forgot. You’re a singer I have never asked this question before, but I will for you. What is your price?”

Anqet stared up into Seth’s amused eyes. “Price,” she repeated in a dead tone.

“Come, you must have settled on a fee before you sang this evening. All singers have their price, although I have never had to pay it. What is yours?”

“Son of a crocodile!”

“You’re changing the subject.”

Anqet wanted to claw those magnificent eyes from his head. Pulling one arm free, she drew back her hand and took a swipe at the count’s face. He caught her hand and laughed.

“Is it to be combat?” he asked. “I’ve never had a woman that way either. You are indeed full of surprises, singer. Let us begin the battle now and decide your fee later.”

Anqet snarled. His nasty assumptions and heartless sensuality turned her into an inferno of rage, rage that inspired her to rake her foot along the inside of Seth’s leg and crush his foot. He grabbed for his leg, and Anqet escaped, charging full force into Lady Gasantra, who was coming toward them from the house.

Lady Gasantra thrust Anqet away from her. “What is
this?” She saw the count, who had limped to the bench and sat rubbing his leg. “Seth?”

Seth cocked his head to one side and regarded his lover with mock felicity.

“It isn’t your concern, Gasantra. Go back in the house. I’ll join you shortly.”

Gasantra looked from Seth to Anqet. Anqet was standing with her arms clasped around her body, her eyes on the ground. A killing gleam came into the older woman’s eyes. She swooped at Anqet and slapped the girl across the mouth.

“Little slut! You’re already spreading your legs for the best you could find.”