The Pharaoh's Daughter (47 page)

He watched Miriam splash in the muddy waters ahead of him. She'd been deep in thought all morning. Had she come to the same conclusion? Now that she'd shared the truth with Mehy, had she forfeited what little bond existed between a slave and master? Their lies to Mehy were intended to protect him in the beginning, but in the end, he felt vulnerable and betrayed. How would he feel when Mered told him about Bithiah?
El-Shaddai, forgive our piteous efforts to control our circumstances.

Jered stopped at the hilltop, where the path diverged to the three-building linen complex. “Father, do I release the night workers or assign new designs to the weavers?”

“You release the night workers. I need to speak to one of the weavers about a flaw in yesterday's design.”

Jered started walking away before Mered finished talking. He'd barely met his father's gaze since realizing Bithiah's identity yesterday. Another relationship tarnished by deception.

“What about us?” Ednah sidled up to Miriam, obviously thrilled the older girl was with her. “Can Miriam and I work together today?” Her voice was nearly swallowed by the growing din of the Egyptian peasant market. Standing by Miriam, Ednah looked entirely too grown up. His thirteen-year-old daughter was nearly as tall as the willowy twenty-one-year-old. Though youthful freckles still dotted Ednah's cheeks, she was of marriageable age for Hebrew girls.
What if both Jered and Ednah want to marry soon?

“Father?” Ednah placed a hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. You stay with Miriam, and both of you remain close to me today.” Mered cast a wary glance around. He needed to warn Miriam of Nassor's dangerous interest, but how could he, without frightening Ednah? “Though Ramessids seldom intrude in the linen shop, the estate foreman has visited every day, Miriam.” A lifted brow and tilt of his head would hopefully imply his concern.

Miriam drew a deep breath and patted Ednah's hand. “Nassor sells Hebrew
girls to the highest bidder. You must never meet his gaze and never speak directly to him. Keep your head covering low on your forehead and wrapped around your lovely curls.” She loosened the girl's belt. “And never show your curves.”

Mered's mouth was instantly dry. So much for subtlety. He searched his daughter's face for signs of fear. Before he had a chance to address Miriam's candor, the older girl closed her eyes, and Ednah followed her lead.

Praying. The girls were praying. While Mered inwardly fumed, these completely vulnerable young women offered their fear to El-Shaddai. Miriam opened her eyes and waited for Ednah to do the same. Their serene smiles reached their eyes, and Mered realized his little girl had not only grown into a woman's body but also into a personal faith.

Choking back emotion, he brushed Ednah's cheek. “Are you frightened?”

She glanced at Miriam and then back at him. “Yes, but Miriam and Jochebed have taught me that fear is the most fertile ground for faith.”

Mered laughed aloud. “So it is. I'll have to share that wisdom with Bithiah.” He tucked her under his arm and opened the workshop door.

“I've been waiting, Mer—” Mehy's gruff greeting halted when he glimpsed the girls. He offered Miriam a cold stare but softened when he saw Ednah. “And who is this?”

Nassor loomed behind his right shoulder. “If she pleases you, I can have her brought to your chamber.”

Mered stepped in front of Ednah. “She is my daughter, Master Mehy. She's only thirteen.”

Mehy remained silent, glaring at Mered until the linen keeper thought his knees would give way. “They both please me, Nassor. I want them both marked as mine so neither will be passed among the guards while I'm away. Is that understood?”

“Understood.” Nassor's jaw muscle danced. Evidently not the answer he'd hoped for.

“In fact, you can bring them both to me tonight.” Mehy shoved Mered aside and brushed Ednah's cheek with his hand. “Miriam can sing while I get to know the younger one.”

Ednah winced, and Mered grabbed Mehy's forearm. Nassor buried his cudgel in Mered's gut, doubling him over.

“Enough.” Mehy's single word stopped his foreman from further violence.

Miriam and Ednah huddled together, weeping. Mered straightened and met his master's gaze. “You are master of Avaris, son of Sebak, an honorable man. I pray you can look in the mirror tomorrow and still be all those things.”

Mehy turned on his heel and stormed from the workshop. Nassor followed, casting a wicked grin over his shoulder as they crossed the threshold.

Miriam and Ednah were immediately at Mered's side. “Are you all right?” Miriam asked.

“Come sit down, Father.” Both girls led him to his desk as if he'd been wounded in battle.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” He waved off their concern but captured their attention. “I want you both to stay in the linen shop today. No breaks or walks to the quay.” He glanced at the doorway leading to the villa's garden. “Nassor will more than likely come here to collect you for the evening with the master. I want you both to be tired and dirty when he sees you.”

“I'm hungry,” Heber whined. He and Jeki sat around a mat, playing their fourth game of pick-up-sticks.

Bithiah took the last piece of bread off the oven, placed it in a basket, and covered it with a cloth to keep it warm.

“Mama, Heber cheated. He touched one stick and then pulled another from the pile—”

“I did not. Jeki doesn't know how to play right.”

“I'm big. I know how to play.”

“Boys, enough.” Bithiah's emotions couldn't abide bickering tonight. She walked toward the doorway, where Jered was watching for his father.

He raised a disapproving brow. “They're hungry. Father said he and Ednah would be late tonight. Why not let them eat? When Father hears you hired a snake charmer instead of sending Heber and Jeki ratting with Hur, he'll be angry no matter who's sitting at the table.”

Bithiah leaned close and whispered, “Do you hate me because I'm your father's wife or because you discovered I was the amira?”

Silence was his only answer.

She sighed, too weary to fight Jered and prepare for Mered's fury. “I'll feed Heber and Jeki, but will you at least defend me when I explain the miracle El-Shaddai provided?”

Jered sneered. “Don't try to blame El-Shaddai for your deception, or Father will be even angrier.”

Bithiah ladled Mered's favorite stew into bowls for Heber and Jeki and cut a fish cake in half. “You boys may eat. There's nabk-berry bread after you finish your soup and fish.”

“I wish the snake charmer came every day,” Jeki squealed.

“Father's coming.” Jered ran to the fire to ladle his own bowl of stew, and Bithiah huddled behind their three boys.

Mered pushed back the curtain and let it fall closed behind him. He looked weary. “What's this?”

“Where are Miriam and Ednah?” Bithiah asked.

“Master Mehy asked them both to attend him in his bathhouse this evening.”

Bithiah raised a hand to her throat, fear silencing her.

Jered's back straightened like a measuring rod. “If he touches my sister, I'll—”

“I've made your favorite meal.” Bithiah laid her hand on Jered's shoulder, hoping to silence his fury in front of the little ones.

Jeki held up his fish cake. “Mother said we could have fish cakes every time she hires the snake charmer.”

Mered's eyes narrowed. “Snake charmer?”

Bithiah's cheeks flamed—not exactly the way she'd planned to inform Mered of the day's events.

Before she could answer, her husband growled at their boys. “Take your meal to Jochebed and Amram's while I speak with Bithiah alone.” Jered quickly herded his brothers through the adjoining doorway, drawing the curtain behind them.

Mered trembled head to toe, the cook fire's flame reflected in his angry eyes. He covered the space between them in two large strides, and his hands gripped her arms, fingers biting deep. “When I left this morning, was I at all unclear?”

She set her jaw. “No. You were quite clear.”

“So you deliberately deceived me.”

“I was desperate to protect our boys. I prayed that El-Shaddai would send a snake charmer, and when I walked them to the villa this morning—”

“You walked to the villa?” He shook her, and she felt the first stab of fear.

Swallowing hard, she considered her words carefully. He was beyond fury, almost desperate. “Not all the way to the villa. When I reached the top of the hill, I saw a skiff at the quay with a strange-looking man getting out of it, so I asked one of the Egyptian merchants who he was. A snake charmer. Mered, your god brought me a snake charmer on the very day I needed—”

He lifted his hand, and she squeezed her eyes shut, ready for a blow that never came. When she opened her eyes, his back was turned. Of course, Mered would never hit her … would he? Every man she'd known had become violent when pushed too far.

Mered dragged both hands through his hair. “How did you pay the charmer, Bithiah?”

“I used the trinkets hidden under my sleeping mat.”

“Mehy's honor braids?”

“No. I would never—”

“What then?”

“A turquoise clasp and a silver ring from my days as amira. Miriam brought a basket from the Gurob ship when she was still my handmaid and never had the chance to return it, so I buried them in the dirt floor under my sleeping mat.”

“What if Nassor discovers the snake charmer can do Hur's job more efficiently and sends Hur to dead-man's land?”

“Hur worked with the charmer,” Bithiah said. “It was only the children that were sent home and worked in the village.”

“What if Nassor asks about the Hebrew woman with Egyptian jewelry? What if the guards assume your husband stole it from the villa? Or perhaps the Hebrew girl, Miriam, stole it when she visited Master Mehy last night.”

“No!” Bithiah shouted. “It was a simple transaction with a traveling snake charmer.” She peered over his shoulder to be sure the children weren't peeking through the curtain. “Who are you to chastise me about deception? You didn't tell me about Mehy going to battle—and besides, we live a lie every day.”

Mered moved closer but didn't touch her this time. “You're right. I should have told you about Mehy, but the truth burns in my belly every day. That's the difference between you and me. That's what frightens me. You don't just lie. You're a deceiver who's lived a lifetime of lies,
Anippe.
”

She flinched as if he'd slapped her. “Don't call me that name.”

“When you act like the deceitful amira I once knew, I can't call you anything else.” With a few angry strides, he was gone.

Anippe.
Alone in the empty room, life became suddenly clear. Mered was right. Everything about her was a lie. Jochebed had named her
Bithiah
, but she was not a daughter of the Hebrew god. She'd been a fool to think El-Shaddai heard her prayer for a snake charmer. The Hebrew god was like all other gods—playing with human hearts.

Mered could call her whatever he wanted; in fact, they need not speak at all.

She filled her bowl with lentil stew and climbed the ladder to the roof. She tossed down Mered's and Jered's personal things, pulled up the ladder, and placed the thatched covering over the roof access. No one would bother her here. Mered could tend the children tonight, and Jered could sleep on her mat with Jeki. Miriam and Ednah would return from Mehy's chamber, and life would go on.

Without Bithiah's comments. Without Anippe's interference. Without her lies.

For her heart's protection, for her sanity, she would breathe, live, and work. That was all. Never again would she spend her treasure on Mered's sons, and Mehy's name would never again form on her lips. Drastic measures for a desperate woman.

It was all too clear—the gods were angry with her. Was it because she lived among the Hebrews or because her pain amused them? It didn't matter. She would be silent. Invisible. Nameless.

Nameless rolled to her side, sensing a heavy dew on her face, hands, and arms. A chill ran through her. She bolted upright.

A screech owl perched on the long house across the path and clacked its beak. Something stirred in the nearby Nile waters, thrashing, fighting, submitting—dying. Pulling her rough-spun robe tighter, she shivered in the fading darkness. Dawn was approaching.

Life is relentless.
She must face her first day with no name.