House of Dreams (56 page)

“Did you see my sheath move?” I said quietly. “That was your child, Ramses. You will say that the harem is full of your children, but surely there is no child running about under the sun that was conceived in such passion and adoration as the one I carry. You said you loved me. Did Pharaoh lie? Or did he exaggerate? My love for you has not died because I carry your burden. Was yours so shallow as to be killed by a swollen belly?” I knew now that he no longer loved me and I was trying to goad him into admitting his insincerity. My eyes never left his face. I saw the colour slowly drain from it, to be replaced by a blankness I recognized as his rising anger. I did not care. I would say what I liked. Let him punish me if he wanted. “I still love you, Mighty Bull,” I went on, my voice breaking. “And I love this child of our happiness enough to fervently desire his legitimization. Make him legitimate, Ramses. If you love me, then marry me.”

He had been listening intently and now he blinked and jerked forward. “Marry you? Are you insane? No matter what I feel for you, Thu, I cannot marry a commoner!”

“But I am no longer a commoner,” I pointed out calmly. “I am a noblewoman. You made me one yourself.” He glared at me, vexed.

“That was to please you,” he said hotly. “Gifts of jewellery, land, a title—it was all to keep you happy. Your blood is still common!”

I came to my feet, my own temper rising on a dark tide of shame, the familiar taste of a long defeat acrid in my mouth. I had thought that in leaving the dust and dirt of Aswat behind all those years ago I had also shed my lineage, but it was not so, it would never be so. Like the brittle snakeskin I had picked up on the desert and put in my cedar box, I would carry it with me wherever I went, whatever I did. Desperately I tried to cling to reason.

“You married Ast-Amasareth,” I countered, a damnable quaver in my voice betraying my distress, “and she is not even Egyptian!”

“That may be so, but the Chief Wife comes from ancient Libu royal blood and is therefore completely acceptable,” he said loftily. I stepped to the couch and leaned on it, thrusting my face close to his, my control gone.

“So do I!” I cried out. “My father is a Libu prince, exiled from his land, forced to soldier in Egypt! One day he will be sent for and we will all go back to his tribe and he will rule and everyone will recognize the royal blood in my veins! I am a Libu princess, Pharaoh! Hear me!” I no longer knew what I was saying. There was a stirring in the room behind me but I was scarcely aware of it. Ramses lifted a hand to whoever was preparing to move in his defence, and turned his attention back to me. An expression of pity filled his face.

“No, my poor little Thu,” he said kindly. “It is a pleasant fantasy. Your father is a peasant. We have had some fine times together, you and I, and you are a brilliant physician. Do not ask for more than I, your King, have given.” I fell to my knees, fingers gripping his sheets convulsively, all pride dissolved.

“What of the Empress Tiye, she who so bewitched Osiris Amunhotep the Third Glorified that he adored her for as long as he lived?” I choked. My mouth was trembling and my words were slurred. “She was a commoner. I know it from my history lessons. Oh, Great Horus, I could be to you as she was to her royal husband! Marry me! Make me a queen, I beg you! I am still your little scorpion! I love you!” Ramses nodded, and I felt decisive hands lift me, thrust my box into my fumbling grasp, propel me to the door. Before I knew it I was outside, sobbing, and the mighty cedar panels had closed firmly in my face.

For a moment I steadied myself against the wall, then blinded by my tears I began to stumble along the passage. I heard the guard at the far end speak and I thought he was addressing me, but when I looked up I saw Hentmira, a vision of seductive beauty, emerging from the dimness. She halted and bowed. “Good evening, Lady Thu,” she murmured respectfully, and waited. Mumbling a reply I hurried past her, head down, and I heard her continue to Pharaoh’s door and knock. The door was opened, greetings exchanged, and the light behind me was cut off. In my humiliation and anguish I crept away.

Ramses did not send for me again, and I was left to spend the remaining time of my pregnancy in an increasing isolation. I heard that one of the palace physicians had been called to attend him, and Hentmira was seen draped over him at several of his feasts. I went from raging at his perfidy to castigating myself for losing control during our last ignominious encounter, but in the end my mood became one of sullen acceptance. The baby would soon be born, and then I intended to stretch every nerve, tap every resource, to recapture the King.

I wrote a letter to Pa-ari, pouring out my unhappiness, and I wrote also to Hui, begging him to visit me. I had heard nothing from him since he had refused me his help despite his assurances that I would have his support. No reply came from either of them, and those final days dragged to their inevitable conclusion.

I considered approaching Prince Ramses, who was also maintaining an ominous silence, but decided that such a meeting would be fruitless. Even if he had wanted to extend a hand to me, which I doubted, what could he do? Take his father to task because Pharaoh had cast me off, and risk the King’s displeasure falling on his own head? The Prince, ambitious and quietly ruthless as he was, would do nothing to endanger his chances to mount the Horus Throne. I did not want those chances put in jeopardy either. If another son was named Heir, the scroll he had dictated would become worthless.

Hunro visited me once, bringing a gift of exotic sweetmeats made by the natives of Cush and sent to her by her brother Banemus. She questioned me sympathetically and tactfully about my fall from favour, and both of us scrupulously avoided any mention of her cellmate Hentmira. Her manner was polite, even warm, but somehow distant, and I derived no comfort from her. Indeed, I felt drained when she at last went away. So ended the month of Khoiak.

I was brought to the birthing stool on the third day of Tybi. The first day of the month was the Feast of the Coronation of Horus. It also served as the day our Pharaoh celebrated his Naming Day, and my first pains coincided with the greatest palace festivity of the year. As I paced out the confines of my quarters, restless and afraid, I could hear the tumult of rejoicing going on all around me, a dim but constant cacophony of horns, cymbals and song. Every citizen of Egypt was drinking and dancing. The Nile would be choked with torch-lit boats crammed with people throwing flowers onto its placid surface, splashing in its shallows, building friendly fires and roasting ducks and geese on its sandy banks.

The harem was empty, but beyond its high walls the palace precincts throbbed with light and noise. Between my still brief contractions I wandered to my door, looking past the vast courtyard drowned in peaceful shadow to the shifting glow against the night sky caused by the thousands of lamps and torches crowding the palace gardens. Shrieks and laughter came to my ears, yet I was as severed from the revelry as though I stood on the bluish moon overhead. Disenk saw to my needs, feeding me sips of water and bathing my brow and spine where the sweat of my increasing effort kept gathering, but Disenk seemed faceless to me, a stranger. I wanted my mother, the sound of her voice coming back to me clearly and startlingly as the pain worsened. I wanted Hui. I had sent for him. He had promised to attend my confinement, but the hours went by and he did not come.

I was able to sleep fitfully now and then. The second day of Tybi dawned and the merrymaking went on. For a while the pains ceased and I was suddenly hungry, but towards afternoon on that long, bright day my belly began to tighten again, this time with an ominous inevitability that terrified me, and I took to my couch where I lay groaning and tossing. Where was Hui? I called to him vainly.

Towards evening one of the harem midwives arrived, and she and Disenk coaxed me onto the litter that waited outside my door. I knew that I was being taken to the birthing room in the children’s quarters, but the knowledge, and the short journey between courtyards, was ephemeral in my mind. I had turned inward to the grim work my body was trying to accomplish, and the rocking of the litter, the hands that helped me to alight and walk the short distance into the stark room, the lamplight, the waiting nursery servants, flickered and wavered without substance on the edge of my consciousness.

I endured another seven hours of torment before I was brought at last to squat on the birthing stool, and shivering and crying, expelled my son. I heard him wail, a high, strident sound, and in a daze of exhaustion and relief I watched while the midwife washed him, cut off the navel cord, and laid him on the bed of mud bricks required by custom. It was only then that I noticed the huge statue of Ta-urt, goddess of childbirth, standing fatly and benevolently in one corner. She smiled down at me complacently while my baby’s cries subsided and I summoned up the energy to smile back. It was done. It was over.

Disenk raised me and together we went out to the litter. The night was still deep, and this unfamiliar courtyard lay like a mysterious and unexplored country. I was sleepy as I curled up on the cushions but I did not have time to settle into their softness. A moment later the litter was put down and Disenk reached in to me. “These are not my quarters,” I said, puzzled, and she shook her head.

“No, Thu. It is customary for the new mothers to remain in the children’s courtyard for some time so that they may care for their babies and be tended better.” I withdrew the hand I had extended to her.

“But I do not want to stay here,” I protested. “I want to sleep on my own couch, Disenk. Set up a basket for my baby in my own bedchamber!” Her face, in the dim light, was drawn.

“I am sorry, Thu, but it is not allowed. You must follow the custom.”

“To Set with the custom!” I cried, struggling to get out of the litter, desperate to flee to my own safe little room. “I want to be away from here, Disenk! Lead me back to our courtyard!” But I was weak, and the hands, kind but firm, that detained me were not.

I found myself ushered into a small cell and laid on a narrow couch. A lamp burned beside it. Disenk went away but quickly returned and placed a snuffling bundle in my arms. The tiny face turned towards my body, seeking comfort.

“A wet-nurse has been appointed for him,” Disenk said. “I will bind your breasts presently, Thu, but now take pleasure in him. He is a beautiful little boy.” I looked down into features so like Pharaoh’s that the breath stopped in my throat. I wanted to hate this scrap of life, this creature who had destroyed my dreams, but I could not. I stroked the wisp of black hair atop his funny little head and sighed.

“Bring me beer, Disenk,” I ordered shortly. “I am very thirsty. And if I am to be incarcerated in this miserable cell, go and fetch my cosmetics and perfume. I may be a mother but I am not dead yet.”

I was watching the wet-nurse suckle my son the following morning when a scroll arrived for me. It was from Hui. “My dearest Thu,” it said. “If I had known that the birth of your child was to be so soon I would not have been unavailable to your messenger. Can you ever forgive me? I am giving considerable thought to a suitable gift for you on this momentous occasion and I am praying that the King’s astrologers choose a lucky name for such a privileged baby. I will visit you as soon as possible.” That was all. He had not told me where he had been, but I could guess. On the other side of the wall, lost to my urgent summons in the maelstrom of celebration.

Hard on the heels of Hui’s unsatisfactory letter came a Herald in palace livery. My baby had fed and was sleeping in my arms when the man came up to the couch, bowed profoundly, and placed a leather pouch on the sheet by my hip. “I bring greetings and congratulations from the Mighty Bull to his beloved concubine, the Lady Thu,” he said formally. “His Majesty thanks you for giving him a royal son, and wishes to show his appreciation with this gift.” He had turned to go when I stopped him.

“Wait!” I ordered, then I gently put the baby beside me and pulled open the pouch. It contained a thick gold anklet studded with buttons of moonstone over which the one band of sunlight falling into the room slid like pale green oil. I could have purchased four years’ worth of seeds for my land in the Fayum with it, or hired an assassin to stick a knife into Ramses’ flabby back. I hefted its weight then dropped it back into the pouch. “Here,” I said peremptorily, holding it out to the astonished Herald. “Return it to Pharaoh, and tell him that his gift is not acceptable unless he brings it himself. You may go.” He backed out hastily, the pouch clutched in one unbelieving fist, and I bent over my boy. His eyelashes quivered. One chubby arm flailed, he burped politely, then sank once more into a deep slumber. I could imagine the King’s anger and embarrassment when he heard my words from his Herald’s lips but I did not care.

Outside my door other babies wailed and children ran to and fro, the voices of their nurses raised in admonition or caution. Somewhere close by a woman was crying. Above me I could hear the droning, incessant chorus of a class chanting its lesson. This harem block seethed with almost unceasing noise and activity and I loathed it. I had fallen as low as I intended to go.

A gift from Hui did arrive in due time, a phial of the purest crystal in whose facets I could see my distorted reflection multiplied a dozen times. Its base and stopper were crafted of filigreed gold and it appeared to be full of dark grey grains which gave off a sweet but peculiar odour when I opened it. “Again I beseech your mercy for neglecting you,” the accompanying scroll said. “I obtained this curious phial and its contents from the Sabaens with whom I trade for medicines. I do not know its country of origin. The grains are Arabian frankincense, the best and costliest incense of all. Inhaling its smoke will cleanse the body and clear the mind. Use it sparingly, Thu, and in good health.” I was distressed that he had not brought the precious thing to me himself and I turned it over in my fingers, marvelling at its uniqueness and trying to decide whether to return it or not. In the end my greed won the contest. No Egyptian craftsman had the knowledge to manipulate crystal in this way and I was sure it was very valuable.