Suzanne Robinson (3 page)

“What’s wrong, Isesi? Did Bastis catch you stealing pomegranates again?”

Isesi grinned at her. “No, mistress. I was waiting for you to help me like you promised.” The boy’s grin disappeared as he remembered his mission. “Bastis says you must come. Lord Hauron’s yacht is downriver. She says you must come immediately.”

She ran all the way back to the house, Isesi at her heels. Bastis waited for her in the bathing chamber adjoining her room. The nurse pulled her out of her old coarse linen shift and herded her toward the stone-lined cubicle where a maid waited to pour water over her. Anqet gasped at the shock of the water on her warm skin.

“A fine mess you’d be in if I hadn’t sent someone to look out for that boat and give warning. Look at you. Hair all wild, dusty and sweaty. Your mother would have taken a fit if she’d seen you. What if her ba spirit is flying around here right now?”

Anqet patted herself dry. She barely heard Bastis’s ranting. She wondered what this uncle would be like. Would he understand that she wanted to remain at Nefer? Underlying her curiosity was a vague sense of dread.
Rahotep had died tormented by concern for her, and that concern had to do with Hauron.

She stood still while a maid dropped a pleated sheath of fine linen, sleeveless and formfitting, over her body. It wasn’t as sheer as the see-through creations worn at court, but its delicate weave clung to her breasts and hips. Bastis fastened a broad collar about Anqet’s neck. Fashioned of gold inlaid with dark blue lapis lazuli and turquoise, it covered her shoulders and chest almost to her breasts.

She fastened matching bracelets on each wrist and took up her mirror. Deftly she applied touches of eyepaint of green powdered malachite and lines of black with powdered galena so that her eyes took on an almond shape. Meantime, Bastis bound her wet hair and settled a wig on her head. Its black tresses fell well past her shoulders. Anqet took up an obsidian jar containing jasmine perfume and dabbed some at her temples, throat, and wrists. Last, she slipped into delicate leather sandals.

“How much longer do I have?” she asked as Bastis returned from the reception hall.

“He’s on his way. I’m going to the kitchens. Nebre is waiting for you.” Bastis looked her up and down. “For once you look like a lady.”

Anqet tossed a black lock over her shoulder. “I am a lady.”

“Only when you have to be,” Bastis said. She hurried away with Anqet’s laughter rippling after her.

Anqet joined Nebre on the portico. The steward craned his neck and stared down the sycamore avenue. Rounding the comer formed by the avenue and the path to the back fields was a long procession headed by a chariot that glinted bronze in the sun’s rays. Anqet squinted. Surely all of those people couldn’t be in Hauron’s party. Three less elaborate chariots followed the one occupied by her uncle, and behind them trotted pair after pair of kilted and robed retainers. Hauron hadn’t come with just a yacht, but with a fleet that bore servants, chariots, and horses.

Anqet bit her reddened lips. Had the man brought his whole household? Did he intend to move to Nefer?

The chariot came to a halt before the steps of the portico. A man wearing a shortsleeved robe and heavy gold jewelry threw the reins to a groom and stepped to the ground. He set one foot on the steps, looked up at Anqet, and stopped. As his people fell into line behind him in silent attention, Hauron continued to stare—his mouth open, his eyes narrowed as they took in the sight before him. A gust of wind molded Anqet’s sheath to her hips and legs. Hauron swallowed.

“Taia?” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“Of course not,” he said. “Anqet, brother’s daughter, I give you greeting.”

Hauron stooped and touched his cheek to Anqet’s. Startled, she bore the familiarity for a moment before disengaging herself. Except for Oubainer, who hardly counted, the only man who had ever held her was her father. Together, Anqet and her uncle turned and walked into the house while Nebre took charge of Hauron’s servants. As they moved toward the coolness of the reception room, Hauron began to apologize for his absence from her father’s deathbed.

“You know that we fought long ago? But that no longer matters.” Hauron drew in a long breath and let it out. “Though it grieves me, I know that it was the will of the gods that Rahotep died before I could reach him. It took much longer than I thought to arrange everything.”

Anqet furrowed her brow. She paused in the doorway. “What arrangements are you speaking of, Uncle? Those for your visit?”

“No, such details are safely left to underlings.” Hauron turned back and smiled down at her. “No. I meant the arrangements for your quarters at my house and the hiring of a staff to run an estate this large. I couldn’t leave Nefer in the hands of just anyone. Surely you realize that you must come to live in my household.”

Anqet’s heart thudded in her breast. She opened her
mouth to object, to correct the misunderstanding. Her eyes caught movement on the portico outside. Nebre stared at her over the shoulder of one of Hauron’s guards. Anqet suddenly noticed how many of her uncle’s entourage were soldiers. Any well-to-do citizen traveled with some protection, but Hauron had brought at least fifteen henchmen, each armed with bow or spear. It occurred to her that Hauron traveled with a great many warriors for a visit to a dying brother.

Don’t he such a donkey. The man is cautious, that’s all. And you should be cautious too. He thinks he’s going to order your life for you.

Under the pretense of giving instructions to a serving girl, she studied her guest. Hauron was a larger, older duplicate of her father. Where Rahotep had been slender, Hauron was thickset. Although he was tall, his musculature was of the sort that ran to fat without constant exercise. His brows arched high on his forehead as though he were continually surprised, but his face was square like her father s. Hauron possessed Rahotep’s thin wide mouth. Lines of temper, or perhaps severity, marred the skin on either side of his lips, and he carried the air of one who expected obedience.

Anqet turned back to her uncle. Again she found him staring at her. Puzzled, she met his intense look. Hauron’s face was flushed. His jaw tightened, and he appeared determined to strangle the beaded belt at his waist.

“Are you ill, Uncle?”

Hauron wet his lips. “Weary perhaps.”

“I have refreshment waiting. If you will honor my house?” She gestured toward the reception room where ale and food awaited.

Hauron indicated that Anqet should precede him. He bowed as she passed and caught a whiff of jasmine and freshly laundered linen. He barely managed to keep his hand from reaching for the girl as she went by.

She was even more beautiful than her mother had been. He hadn’t been prepared for it. He had not thought
Isis would bestow her favor upon another as she had upon Taia. Those breasts. Each was a full, ripe lotus bud. He felt a tingling heat in his loins as he watched Anqet bend over a side table heaped with food. Her robe clung to her hip and leg, exposing the lines of her body.

It wasn’t fair to be so cursed twice in his life, cursed with a demon’s obsession for a woman unavailable to him. At least this one wouldn’t humiliate him by refusing to—

Hauron’s thoughts scattered as he watched Anqet move. He drew nearer, his eyes fixed again on the swelling abundance of his niece’s breasts. He took a goblet of ale from the girl but stayed next to her while she filled a plate with food for him. He edged closer as Anqet stood with her back to him. When she would have turned with the plate in her hand, he caught the dish from her and managed to move at the right moment so that she backed into him. He felt her softness meet his hips and opened his eyes wide. What was he doing? Did she suspect what he felt?

“Forgive me, my child. I am clumsy with fatigue.”

Hauron smiled beneficently at the girl’s flushed response. He took a chair opposite hers and waited for a servant to place a table before him.

He waited also for his desire to cool. It did not. He had known it wouldn’t. Hauron’s smile became a fixed, immobile thing. He stared at the food before him without seeing it. He would instruct his scribe to hurry the arrangements for the transfer of responsibility for the estate. He wanted to get away as soon as possible. Already he endured the tortured memory of a desire unfulfilled. If he didn’t leave soon, he would die of this torment.

Only after Anqet left him did he realize that he was taking the source of his obsession with him.

Anqet stood at the prow of Hauron’s yacht, her back to her uncle and his crew She held her shoulders straight and her head erect and clasped her hands together to still their trembling. With her father’s death she had thought the worst that could befall her had happened. She’d been wrong. Wrong, and stupid.

Hauron had ruthlessly taken control of her home, her servants, and herself, and there was nothing Anqet could do about it. Rage welled up in her as she remembered Hauron’s words when she defied his orders to leave Nefer to live with him. At first he’d been patient. He attributed her defiance to grief over Rahotep’s death. When she refused to agree with him, Hauron dropped his solicitous facade.

The scene was etched in her memory as if it were a sacred carving hewn on the wall of a temple. Hauron had sent for her the morning after his arrival as though he were the master of Nefer and she the guest. He received her on the veranda that looked out on the garden.

“We have nothing to say to each other, Uncle. I’m staying here. I love Nefer, and I have a responsibility to my people.”

She tried to turn away, but a callused hand caught her bare arm in a grip that bruised. He smelled of beer. His face, an echo of the proud visage of her father, was distorted with rage.

“I’m tired of arguing with you. No, don’t try to get away. You’ll only hurt yourself.” Hauron smiled when her
arm fell limp. “I don’t have the time or the patience to humor your odd whims. I’m your only male relation. That means I stand in your father’s place. You know this to be true. You owe me obedience as you would owe it to him, and your life and your possessions are mine to dispose of until you marry.”

Anqet spat her words out. “Then I’ll marry.”

Hauron shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Not until I give the matter the study it deserves. You’re coming home with me. One of my scribes will remain to administer Nefer in my name.”

Anqet wrenched free and faced him.

“You can’t keep me if I don’t want to stay,” she said.

“Oh?”

The soft, pitiless monosyllable made her lift wary eyes to her adversary. Hauron moved toward her. His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the danger in it.

“I will dismiss your precious Nebre and Bastis. I’ll dismiss the household staff, the tenants, the grooms, the cooks. I will sell off the slaves to the nearest overseer. And if you are still not repentant, I’ll sell your lands and destroy this house.”

If Nefer were destroyed, who would see to her parent’s tomb and provide the necessary prayers and offerings that protected their souls?

“And if I go?”

“Everyone may remain, under my control.”

And so she had left. Anqet closed her eyes and listened to the water lapping against the sides of the boat as the current took her north, into the Delta. Hauron had allowed Bastis to accompany her but no one else.

This was the evening of the second day of the voyage. During most of the trip, she had stayed as far away from her uncle as possible, speaking to him only when she couldn’t avoid it. She ignored the curious and covertly admiring glances of Hauron’s men and kept to herself, either in the cabin set amidships or at the prow behind the ship’s lookout. Bastis stayed with her, a silent, belligerent chaperone.

For his part, Hauron watched her constantly during the day. He spent his days prowling about her with a cup of wine in his hand and his nights avoiding her in favor of his beer jug.

Anqet opened her eyes. To her left, the solar disk sank toward the horizon. The sun-god Ra had almost completed his daily journey, and light would soon give way to the darkness of the evil god Seth. Hauron barked an order. The yacht, a shallow-bottomed river craft, would be beached for the night. Few traveled the river in darkness, for the chance of running aground in the uneven depths of the Nile was too great.

“Little Heron.”

Anqet jumped. She hadn’t heard her companion approach, Bastis snarled at a crewman who passed them on his way to the stem. The man hurried away from them. Taking advantage of their isolation, Bastis whispered to Anqet.

“There is trouble.”

Anqet’s lips stretched into a wry grin. “I know.”

“No you don’t, child.” The woman placed a hand on Anqet’s arm. “You’re so busy hating him that you don’t see. But I do. I’ve seen him looking at you. I’ve seen him touch you, pretending clumsiness. Anqet, that dung-eater is dangerous.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Bastis groaned and shuffled nearer. She pulled Anqet down until her lips were near her charge’s ear.

“Foolish girl. Hauron wants you. He burns with lust. Mark me. He forced you to come with him for that reason, not because he thinks your proper place is with him or because it’s his duty. I’m sure of it.”

Anqet’s eyes widened. She looked down at Bastis and shook her head, but she knew that her old nurse spoke the truth. In a heart’s beat, her father’s anxiety became clear to her. Remembering his concern that she marry for protection, she groaned aloud. Bastis grunted in reply and headed toward the cabin. Anqet followed, taking care to
avoid her uncle as he sat on his stool in the pavilion of brightly colored hangings that stood in front of the door.

Before she crossed the threshold, Hauron called to her. She turned but remained in the doorway. She could see that he was already into his second jug of beer, but he had a great tolerance for the stuff. It must flow in his veins.

“Niece, we will be spending the evening ashore.” He lifted a cup to his lips before speaking again. “I have lands near this village and would speak with my overseer of the fields. Prepare yourself. We leave immediately.”