Mara, Daughter of the Nile: Part I

The puzzling, unpredictable, portentous passenger whose very charm set alarm bells ringing loudly in Nekonkh’s mind—what of him?

He was pleasant but unobtrusive—tall, somewhere around twenty years old, with an attractively homely face and a common white shenti and headcloth like a thousand others.

“They say every wall of the inner room is covered with handsomely carved reliefs.”
“Reliefs depicting Her Majesty’s sacred birth, no doubt?” inquired the captain sardonically.

That young Thutmose, her half-brother—when is he to grow up? For fifteen years now she’s been acting as his regent, spending gold and silver like water, sending ships—mine among them!—to the edge of the world for her own amusement, letting the empire foul its rudder for want of trained soldiers.

"You but stated an opinion. But you are somewhat indiscreet. There are those who might haul you off to the palace dungeons at once if they heard what I just heard.”

They say it’s monstrous that a woman should wear the double crown, and call herself not Royal Wife and Consort, but King and Pharaoh.

What was this young rogue up to, talking like a spy one minute, a firebrand the next?

Count Senmut had a finger in every pot in Egypt, and as for the queen, that usurper...

He found himself grinning genially.

Furthermore he realized with a reckless sort of excitement that he, too, would be glad to offer his life to such a cause, for the sake of this extraordinary young man, his fettered king, and the Egypt they both loved.

Put unguent and fine oil together to thy nostrils,
Set singing and music before thy face.

Cast all evil behind thee, and bethink thee only of joy,
Till comes that day of mooring in the land that loveth silence.

“But Zasha’s far from in his tomb, and his stick's livelier than he is, as you'll know if he comes home from his jewel trading and finds you skulking here. Come, now, up with you!”

She turned to look wistfully about the room, and as she did so the old memory returned to haunt her.

“Someday,” she said through her teeth, “I’m going to have gold. So much gold that I could eat roasted waterfowl every day. So much that I could buy Zasha and his simpering wife and all his relatives, and toss them to the crocodiles!”

A slave you are and a slave you’ll be, if you don’t die before your time from the beatings you get for your impudence.

Here a potter spun his wheel and shaped the clay, chanting supplications to Khnum, ram-headed deity of all potters, who had once shaped man himself on a divine wheel.

A group of soldiers, pushing officiously through the crowd, had shoved a ragged girl against a passing litter, so that she collided with one of the Nubian bearers.

“Begone, rabble!” shouted the servant in attendance behind the litter.

He sprang forward, yelling imprecations, and began to lay about him with his stick, his blows falling impartially upon the bearer and the unfortunate girl, who screamed back at him with equal fury, in both Egyptian and Babylonian.

An instant later, however, she reappeared some distance behind the litter, strutting along in the wake of the self-important attendant in a perfect imitation of his pompous swagger.

Her lithe image still in his mind, Sheftu returned to his vigilant scanning of the market place.

She was far too ragged to be the daughter of even the poorest merchant, yet she must have some education, for she had spoken Babylonian; and her slim, wild grace had nothing whatever in common with the stunted brutishness of serfs or porters.

Continuing his same unhurried stride he passed the doorway without a glance, strolling on until the porter had disappeared around a corner, and the quarrelers were abreast of him.

He muttered imprecations under his breath, exploding now and then into angry curses and giving another jerk on the girl’s arm.

So occupied was he with this notion that only habit caused him to conceal his face from the other figure who appeared at that moment on the street—a man swathed to the ears in a woolen cloak, though it was warm noonday.

She far preferred to rage in Egyptian, since its heavy gutturals lent themselves perfectly to invective.

He stopped just inside the gate, watched the scene impassively a moment, then strode forward and dropped a heavy hand upon Zasha’s shoulder, whirling him halfway around.

"Moreover she eats little and is docile as a—Stand up, you!” he hissed angrily at Mara. “Smile!”
Mara stayed where she was, merely regarding him scornfully. The stranger’s laugh was brief and not altogether amused. “Yes, I see how docile she is!"

The stranger growled impatiently, brushed past the bridling jewel merchant and leaning down, seized Mara’s wrist and pulled her to her feet.

The stranger reached inside his cloak and brought out a purse, which he flung contemptuously at Zasha’s feet.

But his face filled her with misgivings. It was cold and stony as the Sphinx itself.

You are both daring and unscrupulous, and you think fast.

You will serve the queen as well as myself, though no one will know this. No one will realize you are a purchased slave at all, for you will masquerade as a free maiden, the daughter of a priest of Abydos, now dead.

His eyes were cold, his mouth implacable.

You will be present at all her interviews with the king, naturally, since she does not speak a word of our language, and he will not deign to speak hers.

You are discretion itself, as skilled in mummery as you are in guile. One would never recognize the gold-hung son of Lord Menkau in those simple rags.

I, too, loved my pharaoh; I rode in my chariot against his enemies and was fearless, and smote them down in great numbers and brought their severed hands and ears to his tent and was happy when he smiled. Together we subjugated the whole southern land of Nubia, even beyond the third cataract of the Nile.

But by all the gods, how long can we keep it, with this pampered woman on the throne? All Syria is growing restive. The Kadesh, the Keftyew, they have not felt the point of an Egyptian spear since their graybeards were young, and they need to be taught respect.

They were powerful hands still—blunt fingered and scarred and sinewy—and once they had gripped the mightiest sword in all Egypt.