Flail of the Pharoah (20 page)

But her mind, honed by the necessity for political manoeuvring, shrank from putting herself forever in the debt of weasels like Tut-Tut. She did not even know whether she could trust her own son, who had proved somewhat wayward of late. This was not the way to dispose of the girl. It would be better to have her spirit cowed by corporal punishment, and then to appear as her saviour. That way the girl might even end up as a valuable ally amongst the shifting allegiances of the royal court.

‘Let her see us,’ Mira commanded. The blindfold was still in place but a hole had been left in the bandages for her nose and mouth, which appeared somewhat ghoulish when isolated against the white linen. Neshi untied the cloth and soon a pair of pale blue eyes stared unseeing into the flickering light of the torches. Slowly they could be seen to focus and widen, but the rest of the girl’s body was completely immobilised so she could not make any gesture.

Instead the cracked lips tried to speak, but only a dry rustling sound of her breath came forth in a wordless explosion of discomfort.

‘It is I, your queen,’ Mira informed her coldly.

The scared eyes darted around as if unsure where to look, finally meeting Mira’s gaze in a look of abject dread. Again a glorious sense of power surged through the queen, more than at any other time since she had ascended to the throne of Egypt. She could tell that both the men present were transfixed by the spectacle of the helpless girl, as impotent as any human being could ever be. She was theirs to do as they would with and she could not resist or even protest, so thoroughly was she cowed and immobilised.

What must it feel like to be such a victim? Mira was surprised by her own curiosity, by the longing to know what was going on in that girl’s soul. Her eyes held a mixture of emotions, all the stronger for her inability to express them in any other way. The queen stared fascinated, as if by gazing into those blue orbs she could divine the darkest mysteries of human nature.

At last the spell was broken by Tut-Tut’s low voice. ‘What is your wish with regard to this wretched creature, your majesty?’

Mira had already decided what should be done. She asked Neshi to produce the knife, one of his badges of office that he always kept in his belt. As the blade gleamed in the torchlight she could see the look of fear grow more intense in Charmian’s eyes, and she gave a faint smile of satisfaction. Let her think she was going to be a sacrifice for the gods; that should teach the hussy to get above herself and take on airs.

‘Give her water,’ the queen commanded, knowing the girl must be able to speak and confess her sins. Tut-Tut put the lip of his vessel to her parched lips and she siphoned the water down desperately, even though she was only given a mouthful.

‘More light,’ Mira said, and Tut-Tut brought one of the torches near to the girl’s bandaged body. Charmian winced as the sparks flew near her face, her eyes wide pools of pure fright.

‘We know you claim to have been visited by Lord Anubis,’ the queen stated. ‘Do you confess it?’

A look of faint bewilderment came into Charmian’s expression, her forehead wrinkling slightly.

“Do you confess it?’ Mira demanded.

‘Y-yes, your m-majesty,’ came the faint, broken whisper.

‘He came to you in a dream?’

The girl would have nodded, but could not. Instead her lips moved almost imperceptibly in assent.

‘More water,’ Mira snapped impatiently, and the high priest handed the torch to Neshi while he administered the lifesaving liquid.

‘Now, speak, tell us what happened in your dream,’ Mira continued.

For long moments the girl struggled with the physical and mental task laid upon her. She seemed
in extremis
and the queen was afraid she might expire, though in a way she would be relieved. The king would presume she had been carried off and killed by his enemies, and there would be no trouble. Yet Mira felt a strange bond between her and the foreign girl she would be loath to lose altogether. Charmian had stirred strange undercurrents in her soul, and she did not yet know where they might lead her. Despite the disparity in their social status, they were alike in some arcane way she had not yet completely fathomed.

At last the story came forth from those moistened lips, fragmented at first then gaining fluency as the girl drew strength from somewhere inside. ‘I was… lying like this, bound… head to foot. I thought… I thought I was dead and… and in my tomb. The god with the dog’s head…’

‘Anubis, Lord Anubis,’ the priest hissed. ‘Give him his proper title!’

‘Lord Anubis,’ she repeated dutifully. ‘He came from the shadows, told me I had sinned.’

‘Yes, indeed!’ Tut-Tut exclaimed. ‘You are guilty of the sin of pride.’

Mira gave him a severe frown, indicating that she did not wish the girl’s story to be interrupted – except by herself. He bowed slightly, and returned to his role as torchbearer.

‘In my dream the god… Lord Anubis… punished me. He made me turn over, then he whipped me sorely.’

She whimpered at the memory, but Mira felt her lips curl into an expression somewhere between a smile and a sneer. So the presumptuous creature had received a similar visitation to her own. This was disturbing, since it suggested they were somehow equal in the eyes of the gods, despite the fact that Charmian was of foreign extraction. Although she had felt close to the girl only seconds ago, now her volatile soul seethed with anger and jealousy. The desire for vengeance took hold and her voice adopted a harsher tone.

‘Then you shall be chastised again, for it is clear that even punishment from the gods themselves will not curb your wayward spirit. I saw you lording it over the people when you were in the procession, lapping up their praise. For two pins you would sit upon
my
throne.’

A theatrical gasp came from the high priest. ‘Never, your majesty!’

‘Precisely. We must put any such thoughts right out of this creature’s head. Neshi, bring your knife.’ With cruel pleasure Mira saw the girl flinch and fear returned to her eyes. ‘Turn her over,’ she commanded, Tut-Tut replaced the torch in its holder, and together with the prince they lifted the stiff body and turned it facedown on the stone slab.

‘Now, cut here,’ she ordered her son, indicating the area of the girl’s bound buttocks.

He gave his mother a quizzical look but she nodded, and then watched as he cut through the layers of swaddling-bands. The linen had been soaked in a preparation of natron and gluey starch that stiffened it, and the knife went through quite easily. Soon he had carved a hole, half a cubit across, revealing the pale cleft cheeks of Charmian’s buttocks.

Trembling with anticipation, Mira ordered her son to undo the leather ceremonial belt. Tut-Tut looked on impassively, his bald dome shining in the flickering half-light. Charmian lay immobile and the queen felt a faint pang of regret that she could not see the expression on the girl’s face and could only imagine what torments she must be going through. Well, they were nothing to the pain that was to come.

‘Ten strokes,’ she coldly decreed, and Neshi fell to the task with enthusiasm, wrapping one end of the belt around his fist and letting the other end fall free. He raised his right hand and brought it down with all his might towards the prone girl’s behind. Mira heard the crack and watched the flesh shudder then redden with the impact, yet the rest of the bound body lay immobile. Only the sudden muffled gasp from the girl’s mouth testified to her pain and shock.

The prince raised his arm again, and this time a distinct groan came from Charmian as the leather bit into her defenceless bottom. The buttocks clenched against the pain, but still the rest of her lay inert. Mira found the contrast between the stiff bandaged body and the bare yielding flesh quite fascinating. The part of Charmian that was exposed seemed to take on a life of its own, to represent all that was human about her, while the rest seemed more like a packaged object.

A third stroke fell, and now there were red weals forming on the plump cheeks. Mira glanced at the high priest and saw a gleam of interest in his eye, but that was all. He was perspiring in the heat of that enclosed place, and she felt hot herself, while a musky odour of sweat emanated from the prince. And Charmian must be sweltering in her tight enclosure; Mira could see beads of sweat forming upon the curvaceous contours of her buttocks, tinged with scarlet.

‘No…’ she heard the girl cry weakly after the fifth stroke, ‘I can take no more!’

‘Wait.’ Mira held her hand up to her son then bent forward to speak in Charmian’s ear. ‘Do you sincerely repent of your sin?’

‘
Yes
…’ came the reply, in a long moan.

‘And you are willing to swear, before these noble gentlemen of the court, that you will remain obedient and humble to me and to all who are above you, for the rest of your days?’

‘I swear,’ she gasped.

Mira glanced at Neshi, who merely looked disappointed that the full penalty would not be administered. Then she looked towards Tut-Tut, who gave a silent nod of approval. ‘Very well, Neshi, use your knife to free her.’

Reluctantly he wiped his belt on his tunic, fastened it around his waist then picked up his knife again. Deftly he cut around the sides of the stiff linen covering until he could peel it away from her body, exposing her moist white back. The red buttocks contrasted oddly with the rest of her body, which was even paler than usual after being encased like a mummy and covered in a fine film of moisture. Charmian shivered as the cool air made its first contact with her overheated skin.

‘Here, wrap her in this,’ Mira said, taking her fine linen stole from her shoulders. ‘Then you must take her back to the palace, Neshi. You can claim full credit for rescuing her from her abductors. That should increase your standing with your father, and heaven knows you need some plus points.’

She laughed at the irony of it all, and even Tut-Tut joined in with a brief chuckle, but Neshi just glowered at his mother. Charmian raised herself tentatively and sat up, staring bemusedly into the darkness and ignoring all three of them, as if she were alone. Neshi draped the stole around her shoulders but only drew from her a blank stare. ‘Come on, then,’ he said brusquely.

When she tried to walk she staggered and fell because her legs were too weak to support her. Mira felt a twinge of pity, which she ruthlessly suppressed. ‘You must carry her,’ Mira told her son.

‘Oh, mother, do I have to?’ he protested wearily.

‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘Now go.’

‘But aren’t you coming too?’

‘Not yet. Tut-Tut and I have some business to perform. We shall see you later, back at the palace. Be gone.’

Neshi put his strong arms around Charmian and lifted her aloft, then strode from the chamber into the dark hallway that led out into the light and air.

The tomb darkened once Neshi had left taking one torch with him, and the atmosphere grew very eerie. Despite the humidity, Mira shuddered.

The priest showed concern. ‘You are cold, majesty, without your stole—’

‘No, it is nothing,’ she insisted, wrapping her arms about her body and rubbing them softly. ‘It is not my body that is in discomfort, but my soul.’

‘How can I help, my queen?’

‘I know not, exactly. Lord Anubis has scourged me, and I have prayed to the Lady Isis, but I am still far from enlightened. Watching my son punish that wayward girl has put me in turmoil. I cannot believe I allowed you to kidnap her, nor let Neshi beat her so severely when she was encased like a mummy. I fear these are not the actions of a gracious Queen of Egypt but of a mere vengeful woman.’

‘It is natural for you to feel some envy,’ Tut-Tut said smoothly. ‘After all, the girl has captured the Pharaoh’s heart – temporarily. It must have been particularly galling for you to see her at the carnival. But such elevation will not last, it cannot. The king will tire of the foreign girl and then you shall reign supreme in his court again.’

‘I wish I could believe you,’ she sighed. ‘But I fear only one thing can ease the terrible guilt I feel in my soul.’

‘Guilt, your majesty?’

‘Yes. I have wronged Charmian. Seeing her there so helpless has aroused something within me, a desire I can no longer contain.’

She looked into the old man’s eyes but he would not hold her gaze. His pale brown eyes slid away, as if embarrassed by something he knew was coming, and yet she thought she detected a glint of strange eagerness, too.

‘Tut-Tut, you are an old friend of my family and me. I know you are loyal and will not breathe a word of what passes between us this day, in this solemn tomb.’ The high priest bowed his head slowly in a prolonged nod. ‘Then I must ask you to perform a particular duty for me, your queen. I cannot ask it of the Pharaoh, my husband; he believes me to be his equal and will not raise a hand to me. But you, my priest, are not so restricted.’

She held her head high, and at last his rheumy eyes met hers. ‘I want you to chastise me, to punish me physically in the same way Charmian has been punished. I crave the relief of having all my petty fears beaten out of me. I want to be cleansed and renewed, and this is the only way. I know I deserve such harsh treatment, and Lord Anubis knows it too for he sees into my black heart.’

The priest put up a show of incredulity, raising his hands and rolling his eyes while he muttered his protests. Yet Mira felt it was all a sham. That glint of something else in his eyes, something akin to wicked glee, belied his token protestations.