The Shepherd Kings (30 page)

Ariana’s presence here in the workshop that was kept secret
by being set openly among so many others, was neither greatly public nor greatly
hidden. She had dressed herself as an Egyptian woman, modestly and plainly, but
there was no disguising the tumbled curls of her hair. She had caught them up
in a fillet, to keep them away from her face.

The workmen had paused at her coming, but when she did
nothing, simply stood near the door, they went back to their work.

They were building the body of a chariot. The wheels rested
against the wall, already made. Ariana wandered over toward them. She frowned
slightly as she examined them, tracing the curve with her hand, measuring,
judging.

Egypt had not used the wheel before, except the potter’s
wheel. It was a new thing, and strange; but these artisans were gifted in
creating exactly what the eye could see. They kept their model before them: a
war-chariot won from the enemy. There was still a dark stain inside of it, the
blood of the charioteer who had died to give Egypt this prize.

Kemni shivered a little. As much as he wanted to be a
charioteer, he still had that old fear, the horror of Egypt for the enemy’s
great weapon. Even knowing what it was like to ride in a chariot—he had not
ridden in a war-chariot. That of Crete had been smaller, lighter, less visibly
deadly.

This he must learn; must master. He stroked the bronze that
sheathed its rim. This had conquered Egypt. Now Egypt would conquer it. And if
the gods were kind, the Lower Kingdom would belong again to its proper king.

~~~

“You must work faster,” Ariana said to the king. “And you
must work with greater care. It’s not a toy you make, or a work of art. The
wheels must withstand rough ground, stones, the bodies of the fallen. The axles
must be strong, and slow to break. The chariot has to be light enough for two
horses or two asses to pull, but strong enough to carry the weight of a man. If
you were wise, you would steal yourself a chariotmaker, and make him teach you
all he knows.”

“How are we to do that?” Ahmose inquired.

It was evening of what had been a furnace-hot day. The king
had invited Ariana to dinner, and Ariana had brought both Iphikleia and,
somewhat to his surprise, Kemni. They had come braced for a court banquet, but
it was only the king and a few of his sons, and, quiet as a cobra in its lair,
the Great Wife Nefertari.

Ariana had shown no dismay at sight of that of all women.
She had done reverence as one should to a queen, and greeted the princes
civilly, and settled almost at once to the thing that had been engrossing her
since, that morning, she visited the workshop. She barely waited for dinner to
be done or for the wine to be drunk.

Now the king had asked her what to do, and she was glad to
answer. “There are chariotmakers in plenty among the enemy. When his armies
travel, they take a few with them, to repair the broken chariots and if
necessary to build new ones. Surely a party of enterprising men could abduct
one or two and persuade them to divulge their secrets.”

“Surely one could,” Ahmose agreed. “And would you be the one
to give it its orders?”

“If my lord so wished,” she said demurely, “yes. Of course.
They’d want to be certain that it was a master chariotmaker, and not an
apprentice or a servant. And more than one would be useful.”

“Then would you persuade these prisoners to do as you ask?”
Ahmose inquired. “Might they not simply refuse, or persist after torture had
ruined their usefulness?”

“I’d not need torture, my lord,” Ariana said. “Do I have
your leave, then? May I do it?”

“You may do it,” Ahmose said.

She clapped her hands, as delighted as a child. “Thank you,
my lord! I’ll begin tomorrow.”

Ahmose smiled. He was not besotted with her, Kemni did not
think, but he found her highly diverting. Nor would he be averse to seeing her
in his bed. That much Kemni could see.

What Queen Nefertari thought . . .

Kemni tried to read her, but she was too greatly skilled in
hiding behind the mask of a queen. She was studying this child with whom she
must share her husband; studying and pondering. But she was letting nothing
escape. It was all hidden behind that beautiful and royal face.

Ariana seemed oblivious. She drank her wine and ate eagerly
of the sweets that had come in with it, chattered and laughed, and charmed the
princes utterly. Their father might not be enthralled, but they quite visibly
were. Even Gebu, who was known as a man of some seriousness, and not easily
swayed by a woman, was hanging on her every word.

~~~

When the king had made it clear that he was weary and
would take himself to bed, the princes offered themselves as escort to Ariana
and her silent shadow. They might have been glad to bear her company past the
door of the house where she was staying, but she laughed and bade them all
farewell, and left them panting like dogs outside a door both shut and firmly
barred.

They looked ready to bay like dogs, too, but settled for a
headlong expedition into the city. “For,” they said, “the night is young, and
so are we.”

Kemni did not go with them. Nor did Gebu. The two of them
walked together toward the princes’ house, not speaking, until they had passed
the gate. Then Gebu said, “Don’t go to bed yet. Come in and talk to me.”

Kemni sighed faintly, but he was not yet asleep on his feet,
nor had he drunk more than a cup of the king’s good wine. Queen Nefertari’s
presence had kept him too much on edge. And so, if he would admit it, had his
nearness to Ariana.

Gebu’s chambers were quiet, his servants asleep, all but one
who came padding out with wine, then went gratefully back to bed. Kemni sat
cross-legged at the end of the prince’s bed as he had many a time before, and
Gebu half-sat, half-lay at the head, and they passed the winejar back and
forth.

For a while they spoke of nothing in particular. But Gebu’s
mind was on other things than the quality of the wine or the reputation of a
dancing girl. After a while he said, “That is a very unusual woman.”

“Very,” Kemni said a little dryly.

“You sailed with her,” said Gebu. “You drove a chariot with
her. Was there . . . anything else you did?”

Kemni considered taking offense. He should. It was not a
question even a prince should ask, even in friendship. But this was Gebu, as
close to Kemni as a brother. For that, Kemni answered and did not challenge him
to a fight. “There was nothing else we did. She was not allowed, she said to
me. She meant of course that she was meant for a king. And so she is. She’s
much too high for the likes of me.”

“And yet she thinks a great deal of you,” Gebu said.

“What makes you think that?”

Gebu grinned at him, though he had not said anything
amusing, that he knew of. “What, are you blind? She looks to you for any number
of things. She’ll want you for that expedition, you can be sure of it. When she
sends you out, take me with you.”

Kemni had been annoyed, and perhaps a little bored. But this
astonished him. “You want to come on that venture? What in the gods’ name for?”

“Why, don’t you?”

“Whoever goes will have to be stark mad. Or desperate for
glory.”

“You don’t think I’m either?”

“I think,” said Kemni, “that you are the king’s son of the
Upper Kingdom, and you can hardly risk your life in such a wild scheme.”

“And yet you will.”

“I’m to be her master of horse,” Kemni said. “She won’t send
me out to get killed before I even begin.”

“Are you sure of that?”

Alas for Kemni’s peace of mind, he was not. But he could
return to the other, the important thing. “You can’t go. Your father won’t let
you.”

“So we won’t ask him.” Gebu met Kemni’s incredulity with a
bland stare. “Come, brother. You’re tired of traveling, I’m sure; you went all
the way to Crete, and you’ve just now come back. I’ve been in Thebes since the
gods know when. We haven’t had a battle or a skirmish in a year. We go hunting
once in a great while, and we went up the river once to Abydos, and worshipped
Osiris. Except for that, all there’s been to do is a round of less than onerous
duties, a great deal of more than onerous reveling, and rather more boredom
than I can easily stomach. We’d all be happy to start a war if it would vary
the monotony.”

“We’ll have a war,” Kemni said, “once we’re ready for it.
But, brother—”

“Brother,” Gebu said, “if you don’t take me with you, I’ll
take myself.”

“It’s likely I won’t go at all,” said Kemni.

“You’ll go,” Gebu said. “And I’ll go with you. Now, are you
going to keep all the wine to yourself, or do I get a share of it?”

Kemni opened his mouth, but shut it again, and passed the
winejar in silence. He had not thought Gebu could be such a fool. Truly, it
must be dull in Thebes, if even that most calm-minded of men was demanding to
be taken on an expedition that could get him killed.

If the gods and Ariana had any sense, Kemni would go nowhere
but to the estate that Ahmose had promised his bride; and someone else would
risk his neck on that wild errand. Kemni could but hope.

When the jar came back to him, he drank so deep that Gebu
protested. His head whirled with so much wine so quickly; some distant part of
him knew that he would rue it in the morning. But he did not care. He was too
much vexed with kings and queens—and yes, with princes, too. He was happy
enough, just then, to take refuge in wine.

Ahmose the king, Great House of Egypt, Lord of the Upper
Kingdom, took to wife Ariana daughter of Minos, priestess, mistress of the
Labyrinth of Crete, on the seventh morning after she had come to Thebes. It was
nothing like the great royal festival that she had promised him after his war
was won. They went separately to the temple of Amon that was near the palace,
each with a small escort—and one of Ahmose’s companions was his queen, the
Great Wife Nefertari.

They had gone, as far as anyone knew, to pay respect to Amon
and to pray for the kingdom’s prosperity. Ariana in her turn was known to be
taking in the sights of the city, and happened, just at that hour, to have
paused in the temple.

And so, in one of the inner chambers, they came before the
high priest and spoke the words that bound them one to the other. With all the
trappings of state ceremonial stripped away, it was a simple exchange of
contracts, and a speaking of vows that were both binding and brief. A plain man
of the city might marry a woman equally plain, with the same words and
gestures.

Ariana did not seem to care that the rite was so short.
Ahmose, as always in her presence, was clearly diverted. Perhaps, Kemni thought
with a rush of daring, he was as bored as his son Gebu. Even a king might
succumb to tedium, after all; and Ariana was anything but tedious.

Once the words were said and the vows and the contracts
written and signed and sealed and laid away in the high priest’s own coffer,
the king and his new queen went again their separate ways. Ariana professed no
regret at the lack of a wedding feast, though her husband said as they parted,
“We will dine together. It’s not the great feast that it should be, but it will
have to suffice.”

“We’ll do our feasting later,” she said, “when your war is
won. Good day, my lord. Look for me at evening.”

Ahmose left then, but as Ariana lingered, waiting for it to
be prudent to follow, a voice spoke out of the temple’s shadows. “Wait,” it
said.

It was no goddess speaking, and no spirit, either. Queen
Nefertari moved slightly, so that they could see her standing by one of the
great pillars that held up the roof. Kemni had been sure he saw her depart with
the king. Had she worked a magic, then? Or had he seen only what he expected to
see?

Not that that mattered. She was here, with a single maid for
company, and she faced her fellow queen with no air of either awe or
friendliness.

Ariana greeted her with respect, as was fitting, but neither
shrank nor cowered. She was not afraid. She even smiled a little. “Thank you
for coming to this wedding,” she said in her voice that was so light, and so
much like a child’s.

And yet she was no child, and Kemni thought that Nefertari
knew it. The Great Wife inclined her head. She did not speak. She might be
hoping to discomfit Ariana with silence.

Ariana had never been discomfited in her life. She went on
as if there had been no pause, nor any expectation of an answer. “I hope we may
not be enemies. There’s much we both may do to help our husband, and much he
needs of us, if he’s to be the king he was meant to be.”

“And you expect,” Nefertari asked coolly, “to accomplish
such a thing?”

“I was sent here to do it,” Ariana said, “and to help you.
Your gods love you, lady. They’ve made you a great queen, and will make you
greater.”

“You flatter me,” said Nefertari.

Ariana shrugged. “It’s the truth.” She looked about her with
interest, and began to wander a little. As if she could not quite help herself,
Nefertari followed. Their way was curving and sometimes circuitous, but it led
toward the outer gate.

Neither was dressed as a queen, but as a lady of substance.
They would not be recognized unless they wished to be. Kemni was sure they both
knew it, and rather reveled in it. One might have thought them allies, if not
friends; though that was not, at least yet, what they were.

Ariana would alter that, he thought. He well knew the allure
of that light prattle. It was difficult to resist her.

Perhaps a woman might find it easier, but she was very
charming. Nefertari said little, letting her run on.

When they reached the gate where Nefertari’s chair was
waiting, Nefertari did not offer to share it with her fellow queen. Ariana bade
her farewell with no sign of offense, and went back on foot as she had come, as
a sightseer in this city of kings.