Magic of the Nile Read online

  The men bowed and Sahure took Tyema’s elbow, directing her to follow the path Pharaoh had taken a moment ago.

  They walked in silence through the gardens toward the palace. Tyema felt reluctant to talk to Sahure, although there were so many things she needed to discuss with him. She also didn’t want to reveal private matters in front of her companions or the fan bearers. Already I can see there are far too many listening ears in the palace. And no way to tell who might be loyal to what faction.

  As she climbed up the many stairs leading to the palace entrance, Tyema realized someone was waiting for them in the shade. Coming forward as she took the final step, this newcomer bowed. “May I welcome you to the home of Pharaoh Nat-re-Akhte and his Royal Wife, Ashayet? I’m Edekh, Chief Scribe.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” she said.

  “Edekh runs this whole place,” Sahure told her with a laugh. “Anything you need, he can get. In fact, he’ll have figured out what you require before you know yourself. Good to see you again, old friend.”

  “We missed you while you were away in the desert.” The two men clasped arms for a moment before Edekh returned his attention to Tyema. “Let me escort you to your chambers, my lady. I’ve ordered dinner for you and your niece.”

  As they walked into the cool halls of the palace, Sahure gave Tyema a quizzical glance, eye brows raised. “Yes,” she said in answer to his unspoken question, “Pharaoh excused me from tonight’s festivities.”

  “While I must attend,” he answered.

  “There would be a number of ladies of the court who’d be disappointed if you were absent tonight, after being in the southern deserts for a year. Certain ladies-in-waiting seem to be unable to talk of anything else but when you might be seen again in Thebes.” Edekh poked Sahure in the ribs with his elbow and chuckled.

  Tyema ground her teeth before she could stop herself, feeling a jealous pang of regret in her heart but steeled herself. I found him so attractive, why wouldn’t the women here?

  Brow furrowed in a scowl, Sahure glared at Edekh for a moment, before turning to her. “We should talk. Perhaps after dinner?”

  “I—I’m going straight to bed. The voyage has tired me. Can we talk tomorrow?” She didn’t feel up to the subjects they had to discuss. And the brief flare of black magic in the air around him had badly disconcerted her.

  He shook his head. “I’ve an errand taking me out of the city tomorrow. Pharaoh gave me his permission. When is the ceremony to be?”

  Unable to quell a feeling of alarm that he was leaving her on her own, in addition to annoyance at herself for needing his presence to support her, not to mention the audacity of his abandoning her so soon to cope with the terrors of Thebes alone, Tyema answered distractedly. “Pharaoh indicated the dedication might be in two or three days.”

  “I was given the same timeline,” Edekh said. “You can take care of whatever business calls you away from Thebes and be here by the appointed hour to fulfill your duties, my friend.” Pausing in the middle of the broad hallway they’d been traversing, the Chief Scribe indicated a gilded door, painted with a scene of water lilies and waterfowl, guarded by two sturdy warriors with spears crossed to bar entry. “We’ve arrived at your suite of rooms, Lady Tyema.”

  As the guards saluted, moving their deadly weapons aside to allow her to pass, Edekh ushered Tyema into a set of chambers so elegant and richly appointed that she was speechless. If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought Pharaoh had given her his own rooms. The walls were painted with lovely scenes of the Nile, gardens and the like. Lotus-topped columns touched with gold supported ceilings decorated with a breathtaking vista of the starry skies ruled by the goddess Nuit. Tyema’s bedroom, visible behind gauzy draperies billowing gently in the afternoon breeze, was huge, dominated by a large bed made of shiny ebony, the mattress supported at either side by carved, gilded, life-size lionesses. The headboard and footboard bore the eye of Ra symbol, painted in gold, accented with turquoise. More elegant draperies surrounded the bed. Nearby stood a wicker cradle for her son.

  Her possessions were stacked neatly in their baskets and boxes by the door of the suite’s main room.

  Edekh paused in mid-step, seeming surprised by the tidy pile. “You travel lightly, Lady Tyema.”

  I brought my complete wardrobe. She bit her lip, remembering she was wearing her best dress this very moment, the one she was supposed to be keeping for the ceremony. “I’ve no occasion for a large wardrobe in Ta’sobeksef.”

  “I’ll send the palace maids to unpack for you,” he offered.

  “No, I’m sure we can manage,” she said, glancing at her niece for confirmation. Renebti was holding the baby close to her, staring wide-eyed from one fantastic piece of furniture to the next, but she managed a distracted nod.

  “As you wish. Pharaoh has decreed members of his personal regiment will stand watch at your door, as you saw when we entered the room, so you need not fear intrusions.” Edekh seemed to have an instinctive understanding that this might be high on her list of concerns, which Tyema appreciated. “Only those you wish to see will be granted entry.”

  “He does me great honor,” Tyema said, her head spinning. All this pomp and ceremony and special treatment at Pharaoh’s behest for a provincial priestess like her was overwhelming.

  Again the Chief Scribe seemed to be reading her mind, disordered though her thoughts might be right now. “All things you deserve, being the personal representative of the Great One Sobek.” Edekh smiled before going on to say, “A servant will be posted outside at all times so you can summon me, should you have a need.”

  The idea of bothering such an august person as Edekh with any trivial request of hers seemed impossible to Tyema. “You’re too kind, everyone here has been so helpful. Where will my temple scribe be?”

  Edekh glanced at Jemkhufu, who had trailed somewhat forlornly in their wake all the way from the gardens. “You’ll be given quarters in the hall of scribes near the library, fellow. In a moment I’ll direct your steps. Should the lady have need of your services during her stay, you’ll be summoned.”

  There was one place Tyema wanted to see while she was in Thebes, not only because she hoped to research issues of black magic, but also because she loved to read. Feeling this was her best opportunity to request the favor, she said, “Are guests allowed to use Pharaoh’s library?”

  Apparently the idea pleased Edekh, who grinned. “It can be arranged. I’ll have a word with the Chief Librarian in the morning and he can give you a tour whenever you like, locate anything you especially want to peruse.”

  “There are some accounts of journeys to the far lands, to Kush and Punt, you might enjoy,” Sahure offered. “I prepared some addenda to those volumes after my own expeditions. Or perhaps the Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor?”

  The reference to the story they’d watched enacted by the strolling players on the night they’d first met unsettled her. Why would he bring that up? Before Tyema could say anything there was a knock and the gilded doors opened behind him, admitting a parade of servants, bearing portable tables and giant platters of fruit, roasted meats, pitchers of beer. The man in charge bowed to Edekh and supervised his staff as they set up the dinner.

  “All this for just us?” her niece whispered, edging closer to Tyema, seeming overwhelmed.

  The steward eyed the display as his staff left the room. He tweaked the arrangement of fruit on one platter, moving a leaf, adjusting a group of figs, before consulting Tyema. “Should there be any delicacy you crave besides what we’ve brought, you must let me know, my lady.”

  “I—I’m sure this will be fine.” We’ll never manage to consume all of this, just Renebti and me.

  Apparently satisfied, the steward bowed and left.

  “We’ll leave you to your dinner then.” Edekh drew Jemkhufu with him. The latter cast a glance over his shoulder as the door closed behind them. Tyema knew he’d been hoping she’d request him to remain and dine with her
, but she was sure she’d have been committing a breach of etiquette, based on how Edekh had behaved toward her scribe. Truth be told, she longed to have privacy.

  Sahure lingered. “I would see my child.”

  Without a word Tyema took Seknehure from her niece, who murmured something, grabbed a handful of grapes from the table, and walked off to explore her own adjoining bed chamber. The baby cooed and laughed, reaching to toy with his mother’s earring.

  “I know how to hold a baby,” Sahure said as she hesitated. “I have nieces and nephews, friends with children. None of my own. Until now.” He held out his arms and Tyema placed his son in them. Sahure held the baby carefully, securely. Father and son stared at each other, their solemn expressions almost comically identical. Tyema found herself blinking back tears, full of fierce pride in her sturdy baby. Sahure brushed one finger down his son’s cheek and the boy grabbed it, gumming. Raising his eyebrows, Sahure glanced at her. “He’s teething already?”

  “So it seems. He’s in a rush to grow up.”

  Pride written all over his face, Sahure grinned. “I’d expect nothing less from my son.”

  “He’s a good baby,” she said. Her heart ached, wanting Sahure to love the boy as she did. “Seknehure rarely cries but when he does, he has strong lungs.”

  “Yes, I heard for myself today in the garden,” Sahure’s cheerful expression faded as he glanced from the baby to her. “Why didn’t you answer my letters? Did what we shared mean so little to you? Even though our son is the result? Were you still angry over the way we parted?”

  Surprised, feeling attacked, Tyema put her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Letters? I had only the one, saying you’d been posted to the Southern Oasis, which arrived three months after you’d left. Why didn’t you answer mine, when I told you I was with child?”

  “I told you, I had no letters.” His voice was sharp. “Do you think I’d ignore news of such importance? Even in the desert outpost of Kharga I’d have found a way to send you an acknowledgment, amulets to assure your safety in pregnancy and his at birth, some token of my concern and involvement. My affection.”

  Apparently upset by the tone of the adult voices, the baby’s face crumpled into a frown and he wailed. Tyema reached for him, but Sahure put the infant to his shoulder, patting his back firmly. Seknehure subsided into hiccups, tugging on the black and gold nemes head cloth Sahure wore as part of his uniform. After a moment, he did hand the child back to Tyema.

  “I don’t know what to think,” she said, remembering the flickers of black magic she’d seen earlier. She held the baby close. I must tread cautiously. I don’t know who in Thebes might be compromised by the black magic. It’s been over a year since I saw Sahure.

  “Did you post your letters yourself? Does mail come to you unfiltered?” he said.

  “Of course not, handling the temple’s correspondence is one of Jemkhufu’s duties—” She stopped, free hand going to cover her mouth. “You don’t think, he wouldn’t dare—”

  “I’ve always thought your Jemkhufu had aspirations beyond his station. In Thebes a temple scribe wouldn’t be so bold as to raise his eyes to a high priestess, much less forge his ambitions around a relationship with one.”

  Temper flaring, nerves stretched like a bowstring, head aching from all the events of the day and the heavy headdress, uncomfortable because the baby obviously wanted to nurse again and she craved privacy to sit with the child, Tyema was more brusque than usual. “I’ve heard quite enough about Thebes for one day. Don’t you have to be on your way to Pharaoh’s banquet?”

  “Yes, I should be going.” But Sahure made no move toward the door. “We’ll have to talk about our son soon. He’ll want for nothing, I assure you.”

  “I can take care of my child,” she said.

  Forehead wrinkling in a frown, Sahure seemed to exert effort not to respond angrily, maintaining an even tone of voice. “Our child, Tyema.”

  “So you keep reminding me.” She moved toward the bed. “Do you mind? I’ve had a long day and the baby needs to nurse.”

  He bowed, “Of course. By the way, Edekh will watch over you tomorrow, while I’m out of Thebes. He’ll ensure you’re summoned to the meeting with Pharaoh and the local priests in good time.”

  Unbending a little, because Sahure was addressing one of her major concerns, which she appreciated, Tyema allowed her gratitude to show on her face and in her voice. “Thank you.”

  Without saying anything else, Sahure left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  He acknowledged the guards’ respectful salutes automatically and took a step toward the main cross-corridor, scarcely knowing where he was going, head whirling with all the day’s events. He realized there was a servant in his path, attempting to get his attention.

  The boy bowed. “Chief Scribe Edekh requests your presence in his quarters, sir, as soon as your duty to Pharaoh’s guest is complete for the day.”

  “All right. I know the way, no need to escort me.” Grateful to have a destination, knowing nothing would’ve escaped the keen eyes of his old friend, Sahure dismissed the page and hastened through the halls, relieved not to meet anyone he knew, until he arrived at Edekh’s lavish chambers.When Sahure knocked briskly and entered without waiting for permission, the Chief Scribe was alone, studying a malachite and ivory senet board, evidently playing against himself. A wine flask stood on the table nearby. As Sahure let himself into the room, Edekh glanced up, raised an eyebrow and poured a liberal amount into a mug. Handing the drink to Sahure as he sank into the empty chair, Edekh said, “Long day?”

  Draining the wine in one rapid series of swallows, not even pausing to savor the quality of Pharaoh’s finest libation, Sahure nodded and poured himself another.

  “I gather the little Lady Tyema must be the mystery woman the queen had me send messages to, on your behalf?” The scribe moved a black pawn onto a malachite square outlined in gold leaf. “And perhaps the robust babe is your son?”

  “Yes to both. Not that I doubt your word, old friend, but Ema says she never received more than the first message.” Sahure sank down on the closest chair, setting his wine on a low table with cats’ clawed feet that stood nearby. With a careless yank, he removed his nemes head cloth before burying his head in his hands for a moment. Straightening, rubbing his jaw, he said, “A letter which—as I recall to my embarrassment now—was written in haste and said little.”

  The scribe raised his mug. “I wish your son health and joy. And congratulate you on fatherhood.”

  Raising his head, stretching side to side to unkink his back muscles, Sahure nodded and drank in answer to the toast. “I confess my head is in a whirl.”

  “I thought you might need the safe ear of a friend before you appear at Pharaoh’s dinner tonight.” Edekh threw the counting sticks and moved a white pawn. “You’ve been under tight control today. I could tell.”

  Sahure nodded. “Aye, ever since I received Pharaoh’s orders this morning to escort Ema while she’s in Thebes.” He shook his head. “She said she’d never leave Ibis Nome. She said it was impossible for her.” A burning tide of anger rose in him as he remembered the way their night together had ended, with her outright, almost panicked rejection of his proposal. “Yet here she is. And it was plain to me this morning when I boarded her boat in the harbor, she’d no idea I was here as well. She certainly didn’t come to Thebes in any hopes of seeing me.” And the knowledge burns.

  “To be fair, I understand the god Sobek ordered her to bring the crocodile to Thebes,” Edekh answered, contemplating his senet board. “A woman might refuse a lover, but never a Great One.” Head tilted, scratching his chin, he gazed at Sahure. “I quite like her. Refreshing lack of self importance. Certainly Pharaoh was favorably impressed. Apparently she held her own in their private conversation.”

  Sahure laughed. “She probably didn’t know enough to be properly intimidated, my friend. You should have seen her on the boat this morning, dressed i
n a patched sheath, mended sandals, no jewels other than her amulet and a curious bracelet. Beautiful as always, but she’s got no idea how any slightest detail carries significance at Court, the politics here, the intrigues—”

  Leaning back in his chair, Edekh propped his bare feet on a small wooden stool in the shape of a kneeling gazelle. “Yet she’s a high priestess. Even in a provincial temple such rank doesn’t come to the naïve.”

  Rising, Sahure paced restlessly. “There’s something more to the story of how she ascended to the position, which I could never get out of anyone in her small town. Her rank most certainly didn’t come through a rise in established hierarchy. And I’d no time, nor was I in the right mood, to inquire of my uncle the nomarch when I left Ibis at Pharaoh’s command a year ago.” He stopped, throwing his hands wide. “Edekh, I’m a father.” He paused for a moment, savoring the words, basking in the proud notion, remembering how it felt to hold his sturdy son for the first time. “I was going to leave for Ibis within the week, to try and straighten out matters between us. My carefully measured speech was well rehearsed in my head.” He laughed. “And then today not only is Ema here, but she brings a son I never even knew existed. I feel as if I’ve been tossed about in a sandstorm. My head aches.”

  Edekh held out the wine skin and poured more into Sahure’s mug. “Do you still love her?”

  “Yes.” The answer was unhesitating, straight from his heart before his head considered the question. Surprised, Sahure paused for a moment to unravel the tightly wound braid of his feelings. Love warmed him when he thought of Tyema, but right now the deep emotion was tempered with anger and uncertainty. “While I was stationed in Kharga, I thought of her often, relived every moment of our two weeks together, tried to sound out the meaning of each word she said to me.” He laughed with no mirth. “In the remembering, I could clearly see for every thousand words I spoke, she answered with fewer than ten.”