The Pharaoh's Daughter (24 page)

After trekking across the land bridges between the canals of the Delta marshlands, they began climbing the dividing plateau between Avaris and Qantir. Mered had only visited the nightmarish netherworld of mud and grain once, years ago, on a hurried delivery of robes to Qantir. He'd hoped never to witness this level of Hebrew misery again.

When Anippe reached the top of the plateau, she grabbed her knees, panting. Was it the climb that stole her breath or the inhumanity stretching before her? By the light of a full moon and clear sky, men yoked together with papyrus rope cut endless rows of ripened grain. Women stumbled under the weight of full baskets on their heads to dump their loads on a cart only to return and fill their baskets again. Children gleaned in the fields, their small hands cut and
bleeding as they probed the heads of grain for every morsel. In mud pits beyond the fields, faint shadows showed bent slaves working under the looming shadows of their taskmasters.

Nassor shouted at the Ramessid in charge, who lounged on an elevated chair between the fields and mud pits, picking his teeth with his dagger. “Overseer, we're looking for a woman.”

“We're all looking for a woman, eh soldier?” The overseer slapped his knee, laughing like a hyena. “Pick one. Any one. Just be sure you send her back to the field or pit when you're finished with her.”

Mered tried to lead Anippe away. “Please, Amira, let's go look at the long houses. Perhaps it won't be so bad there.”

But she stood like a granite pillar, hands covering her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn't know, Mered. I didn't know.” She flinched each time a whip snapped and wept in the purple shades of night.

Mered gently gripped her arm. “Come, let's check the long houses. Maybe Jochebed is settling into a new home.” It was a desperate attempt at comfort, but he didn't know what else to do.

He looked to Ankhe for help but found her mesmerized by the sights—and smiling. Mered's stomach lurched. She seemed entertained by the suffering, gratified by the ruthlessness.

“This is the Amira of Avaris,” Nassor said, “and she has come to retrieve a Hebrew woman named Jochebed who I delivered to the plateau at dusk.”

“So you're in trouble, are you, Captain?” the overseer sneered.

“Where are your new arrivals?” Nassor's tone left no room for a chat.

“Some in the fields. Some in the mud pits. There's a guard at each quadrant that can help start the search. You might find her by morning.” The foul man poked his dagger at his teeth again and leaned forward, inspecting the amira and her sister. “So you're the amira. You don't look as testy as the one at Qantir.”

“Wait here,” Nassor growled and stalked away.

Mered reached for both the amira and her sister to draw them close, but Ankhe yanked her arm from his grasp. “Don't touch me, Hebrew.”

“Forgive me.” Mered bowed his head and backed away to join Anippe.

An eerie hum rose among the guards and slaves. “Are you Jochebed?” First one guard, then another. “Jochebed! Jochebed!” The name spread down the rows and through mud pits. “Have you seen a woman called Jochebed?” Whips snapped, and slaves cried out. The slave masters moved down the rows, growling, threatening, beating, terrifying.

“I didn't know. I didn't know it was like this,” Anippe whispered, unable to look away from the inhumanity before her. “How do they do it, Mered? How do they keep breathing? Keep living day after day?”

Mered tried to imagine seeing his people through an Egyptian's eyes. His amira was trembling, repulsed but oddly inspired. “The Hebrews have lived in bondage for hundreds of years, but we endure it because El-Shaddai will one day give us land of our own.”

Ankhe turned slowly, a sly grin shadowed by the moon. “So you're planning an uprising, linen keeper? Maybe to reconquer the land your Hyksos ancestors lost?”

“That's not what he said, Ankhe.” Anippe stepped between them. “You are not to repeat what Mered said to anyone.” Then, turning on Mered, her voice became low and urgent. “Don't ever speak of freedom again. It's treason to dream of your own land.”

“The Israelites don't dream of Egypt, Amira. Our God has promised us another land—in Canaan.”

Ankhe laughed—a cold, harsh sound—but Mered watched his words tumble and churn in Anippe's eyes. Finally, pity washed over her expression. “An ancient promise isn't enough to sustain your people, Mered. Look at them.”

He followed her gaze and knew she was right. Most of his fellow Hebrews had given up on Yahweh's promise generations ago. “Perhaps it is simply love, Amira. Like you and me, those slaves love someone—and it gives them hope.”

She smiled a little then and nodded. “I can believe that. Loving Sebak and Mehy gives me hope—and a reason to design linen robes, to maintain Avar—”

“You're ridiculous—both of you.” Ankhe's eyes blazed. “These slaves don't live because of some forgotten promise or empty emotion. They live because they can't die—no matter how much they wish it.”

Mered was as startled by the girl's declaration as her sister. The passion
behind her words clearly erupted from a place deep within. Ankhe wasn't just commenting on the slaves.

Before either could probe her deeper meaning, Ankhe stomped away toward a barley field, where a knot of women waited to empty their baskets into a cart.

Anippe squinted in that direction. “Mered, I think … yes, it's Jochebed over there.”

Ankhe's fine white linen fairly glowed amid the filthy rough-spun cloth of slaves and guards. She looked like a goddess floating across the field—until she knocked Jochebed's basket from her arms and dragged the poor woman by the collar toward the overseer.

Standing at the base of his elevated chair, Ankhe shoved Jochebed to her knees and shouted at the overseer. “This is Jochebed, you lazy ox. Do you know what Amira Anippe does with lazy oxen that will not work? She cuts them into pieces and serves them to her slaves for their evening meal.”

The overseer sat utterly still. Whether shocked or intimidated by this girl's threats, Mered couldn't decide. He leaned close to whisper to the amira. “Have you ever served roasted ox to the house slaves?”

“Never, but I think Ankhe has the man's attention.” Anippe raised her voice in the dark silence. “Captain Nassor. Show yourself.”

Nassor's large form hurried toward them from where he'd been searching in one of the fields. “I'm here, Amira. How may I serve you?” Breathless, he bent to one knee.

“You will choose a man from among the field captains to replace the overseer. Make sure he leaves at dawn—to join the Ramessids at the Sinai copper mines. He's spent his last day on my estate.”

“It will be my pleasure, Amira.” Nassor marched toward the overseer's chair, passing Ankhe and Jochebed on his way.

Ankhe was speaking quietly but adamantly to Jochebed, whose head was bowed. When the two women joined Mered and Anippe, Jochebed fell at the amira's feet, weeping but silent.

Anippe braced her shoulders and helped her stand. “Are you all right, Jochebed? Did they hurt you?”

“All is well, Amira. No harm done.” Her lips quivered as she spoke, her eyes darting to Ankhe as if checking for approval.

Mered knew his friend. Jochebed was terrified. Ankhe had threatened her somehow.

“You see?” Ankhe said to her sister. “No harm done. And because of this little misunderstanding, you rid Avaris of a lazy overseer. The gods smiled on this night, Anippe.” The young woman's cheery disposition laid bare her scheming.

But the amira wasn't distracted by Ankhe's good deed. With her jaw set like Hittite iron, she glared at her sister. “You owe Jochebed an apology, Ankhe.”

“I will never apologize to a slave.”

Mered watched the sisters' silent war. A thousand moments passed between them, their expressions reflecting both yearning and pain. The two women couldn't be more different, yet they seemed to share a bond as strong as life itself. Or was that bond a shackle?

A single tear crept over Anippe's bottom lash. “You may think Hebrews live only because they cannot die, but Jochebed lives for the people who love her—and you almost took her away from them. You will apologize, Ankhe, or you will join the overseer in the copper mines.”

A quiet knock sounded on Anippe's door, and Mehy looked up from where he and Miriam were playing with his wooden blocks on the goatskin rug.

“Ankhe?” he asked. “Is it Ankhe?”

As if summoned by her wide-eyed pupil, Ankhe entered, Captain Nassor a looming shadow behind her.

“Good morning, Amira.” Nassor bowed and winked at Mehy. “I'm delivering Master Mehy's tutor as scheduled. Would you like to choose which guard accompanies the young master and his tutor for their lessons today?”

Ankhe joined Miriam and Mehy on the rug and began playing quietly with them. Anippe glanced at the trio, marveling at her sister's changed behavior. Only two weeks had passed since she'd threatened Ankhe and forced her muttered apology to Jochebed. Watching her now with Mehy, Anippe nearly wept. How could she have threatened to send Ankhe to the copper mines? She hardly recognized the gentle young woman before her. Dressed in a new robe and pleated sheath, Ankhe's eyes were painted with a dazzling malachite and kohl design that rivaled Anippe's own.

“Amira?” A slight touch on her arm awakened her to Nassor's troubled expression. “Has something upset you?”

Anippe realized she was crying and dabbed her eyes with the linen cloth she kept tucked in her belt. “No, Nassor. I'm fine.”

“You need only give me a name, and I'll deal quickly with whatever is troubling—”

“No, really.” She leaned close and whispered, “I'm just so relieved that Ankhe and Mehy are enjoying each other. My son can hardly wait to see his auntie each day.” How could a soldier understand what a child's love could mean to Ankhe? Her sister had never shown love for anyone. Anippe had often wondered if Ankhe was capable of the emotion.

“I'd be happy to accompany Master Mehy during his lessons today.” Nassor lowered his voice and smiled at her son. “He's a fine boy.”

Ankhe must have thought his approval was meant for her and cast a shy grin over her shoulder, lifting an eyebrow at the Ramessid.

Was Ankhe flirting? Had Nassor taken an interest in her? Anippe shot a glance at the captain but found him waiting on her answer.

“I can summon their usual guard if you'd rather.” He seemed totally oblivious to the playful pout on Ankhe's lips.

Anippe looked back at her sister, whose hopeful expression begged for Nassor's attention. He was undoubtedly the reason for Ankhe's paints and pleasantness. “Please wait outside while I speak with Ankhe,” Anippe said. “I'll call for you when I've made my decision.”

“As you wish, Amira.” He bowed and was gone without a second glance at Ankhe. Either he was good at hiding his interest, or Ankhe was headed for heartbreak.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Ankhe was on her feet and growling. “You must let Nassor stay with Mehy and me today. There's no reason to leave him lingering at your chamber door when Mehy and I could benefit from his protection.”

“His protection? Is that all you hope to gain from the captain, Ankhe?” Anippe's teasing fell flat.

Ankhe's amiability fled, swallowed up by her familiar defenses. Anger. Bitterness. Indifference. “I'm sure I'll gain nothing. You always make sure of that.”

“That's not true, Ankhe. It's not my fault that you refuse to—”

“That I refuse to beg for favor from arrogant men who hate me?”

Anippe shook her head. It was always the same story with Ankhe. She was always the victim. Never at fault. “Do you think Nassor can make you happy, Ankhe?”

“Well, he can't make me any more miserable than I am as your handmaid or Mehy's tutor.”

Anippe felt as if she'd been slapped. How could anyone be miserable in the presence of her son? He was light and joy and life—but it was normal for Ankhe to want a son of her own. Her heart softened, seeing her defiant sister as a lonely young woman in need of a man to love her.

“All right, Ankhe. I'll talk to Nassor today, find out if he's worthy of the king's sister. If I approve, I'll write to Tut and ask him to make the match. But I must also be convinced you truly love Nassor before I give my approval. I won't have you wreaking havoc as wife of my villa captain.”

Ankhe's eyes filled with tears. “I've always been worthless to you and Tut. I won't expect Mered to design a wedding dress yet.” She turned and marched toward the bathhouse, calling to Mehy over her shoulder. “Come, little one. We're already late for your lesson.”

Anippe watched her go, heart twisting. She wanted Ankhe to be happy, to be loved. But could Ankhe receive it? Would she?

Miriam tugged on Anippe's robe, bringing her back to the moment. “Do you want me to stay with Mehy and Ankhe today, Amira?” Her message was clear. She feared for Mehy when Ankhe was angry. This slave girl knew better than most how dangerous Ankhe could be.

“No, Miriam. I'll send a chamber guard down to watch over Mehy.”

Anippe opened her door and motioned for Nassor.

“Yes, Amira?”

“I'd like you to escort me to the linen shop, but I want your best man, the most trustworthy Ramessid on the estate, to watch over my sister and son today.”

“As you wish, Amira.” He bowed and left, returning quickly with an older guard about the same age as Abbi Horem. Had Nassor chosen the best Ramessid to guard her son—or a soldier who wouldn't steal Ankhe's heart? She hoped to learn the answer by asking Nassor to introduce the new chaperone.