Daughter of the Nile Page 3

  My mother sidled over and sat on the bench beside me. “You will be next, Siti,” she said, smiling, her voice light with too much wine. The softest scent of the sweet myrrh wafted from her, mingling with my own.

  “There is no rush, Mother,” I said, tasting the fig with my tongue. “Let Salama have her year. I have plenty of time.”

  “Nakhti has asked after you again.” Her words caused my stomach to recoil. I placed the treat on the table at my side. “He is most insistent.” She faced me, turning my chin in her manicured hand. “Tell me your thoughts on this, my daughter, for I must give him an answer or take his request to your father.”

  I gently pulled my chin out of her grasp and lifted the silver goblet to my lips, moving slightly away from her as I did so. “I do not wish to marry Nakhti. He is arrogant and spoiled. His temper flares at every whim.”

  My mother shrugged one sleeveless shoulder. “All men are arrogant and spoiled, my child. His temper will cool once he is wed.”

  I raised a brow and curled my lip, disbelieving. “Marriage does not cool the temper of any man I have seen. Either a man is good and kind or he is not. Nakhti is not, and I do not wish to be the one to teach him what he should have learned at his mother’s knee.”

  My mother stared at me for the longest moment, and I was certain she would have a blistering retort defending my father or brothers or men in general, but she said nothing. She looked toward the center of the room where the dancers were showing off their latest moves, swaying around a fancy juggler.

  “Do you have another man in mind that you wish to marry? I have seen none other come to seek you out. Or is there some secret lover of which I am not aware? I cannot put off Nakhti if I do not have another one who wishes to wed you.” She paused, and I sensed she was working her way into a long-winded speech. “If you are hoping to find a man who resembles all of those poems you hear, you will wait until Osiris calls you to the underworld. Those men do not exist.”

  I stared at my sister and Hamadi, catching a glimpse of the joy in their eyes, and I watched the dancers pose in erotic ways to entice the audience to think thoughts of love. In the background the singers expressed words of such beauty that my heart stirred with a longing I could not define.

  If those kinds of men did not exist, then did love exist at all? And if not for love, then marriage truly was simply an aligning of two people with similar goals, to secure the future for the next generation.

  The thought troubled me, and I had the anxious desire to leave the room and my mother and my future in this place. If marriage meant living in this harem or any harem with the boredom of sameness—no adventure, no bliss as the poets imagined—then I would never marry.

  “I have no one in mind,” I said dully, wishing my mother would leave me to my silent misery. “But I do not want to marry one of my cousins, nor my half brothers.” I stared at the smoky, perfumed room. Black soot clung to whitewashed walls from tall sconces set in niches, and suddenly the scents of smoke and sweat and myrrh were not pleasing to my senses. I stood. “Give me time, Mother. There is no need to decide tonight.”

  My mother did not move as I stepped past her, but I did not miss her parting words. “If that is the case, you would be better off to marry a foreigner than a commoner, for there is no one else who matches you in rank.”

  I tossed a look over my shoulder. “Bring me King Solomon,” I said flippantly, not meaning a word of it. “Make an alliance with him, and I will marry your foreigner.”

  I walked away, blushing at my own brashness, especially after I had just concluded that I wanted to marry for love, not political gain. And how foolish of me to make such a declaration at a banquet for my sister, where any of the wives of Pharaoh could hear.

  Akila took my arm once we cleared the room and walked me back to my chambers.

  “My tongue is going to get me into serious trouble someday,” I said.

  Akila did not disagree with me.

  Interlude

  There have been times in my life when I wondered if the gods took possession of my words and forced me to live them. It has taught me great caution in these years since my sister wed Hamadi, my father’s crown prince. For though I managed to keep Nakhti at bay and avoided the pressure my mother placed on me to marry a different cousin, I could not avoid her look of triumph when King Solomon actually did come to visit Egypt.

  Nor was I prepared for the reaction of my heart when I took one look at his handsome face. And more than once I questioned my own good sense when I thought his words sweeter than honey. His wisdom was like that of the gods, alluring, capturing the minds of all my father’s attendants.

  But when my father offered an alliance of enormous political worth to this fabled king, I was not prepared for the role I would play. My flippant words to my mother had come back to haunt me.

  5

  Though my father’s men had captured the stalwart city of Gezer two years earlier and made the news known far and wide, the desired effect—to entice a visit from the king of Israel—had taken far longer than the Great Pharaoh had expected. But at last the day came when King Solomon, in full regal splendor, graced our fair city with his presence.

  “How long do you think he will stay?” I stood on the roof beneath a great wide awning of my father’s palace, gazing toward the gleaming tents of Solomon shining like jewels against Ra’s setting sun. “His entourage fills the entire plain along the Nile’s banks.”

  “I suspect he will stay until he acquires what he came for,” Akila answered at my side. She leaned against the parapet, her face upturned to catch the last rays of sun.

  “And what is that, exactly?” Rumors had abounded, but unless he hoped to gain Gezer from my father without some type of trade, I saw no reason for his visit.

  “I don’t know, my lady.” Akila faced me, her smile too knowing. “Do you not find him fascinating though? It is as if he understands every creature on earth.”

  Solomon had spoken of many beasts and birds and reptiles during open discussions at court. My mother and sister and I had not missed a single moment of those meetings, and not a courtier or scribe in the audience chamber spoke, nor barely breathed, so rapt was the attention Solomon commanded. My heart fluttered as it had done too often at the mere thought of the man.

  “He is very wise,” I said absently, wishing at that moment for an audience with him all to myself. “Do you think he brought any of his wives with him?” The tents were large, his retinue like the deluge of the Nile, but I had not seen any women of royal Hebrew heritage in conference with my mother.

  “I would not know, my lady.” Akila looked out toward the plains where the sun now sank beyond the horizon to die its death until it was reborn at another dawn.

  “What help are you to me then?” I said, knowing how cross I sounded. “What good is it if you do not pay attention to the gossips?” I had gotten no closer to King Solomon than the balcony in the audience chamber. Perhaps at the banquet my father intended to host in a few weeks I could find a way to get a closer glimpse of him.

  “I pay attention, my lady, but there is little to tell. King Solomon keeps to himself. They say he is cautious, and I daresay that his wisdom makes him careful, would you not agree? Even a servant who is wise can understand the need for caution. Kings have many enemies, even among those who are close to them.”

  “They say he made sure those enemies were removed from existence when he first came to power. Even his own brother was not spared.” I shuddered to think it, though the practice was not an uncommon one.

  “Even so, no king is ever truly free of enemies, my lady.” Akila faced me.

  I nodded, saying nothing. My father had food tasters and wine tasters and tasters for the tasters before he would allow a single piece of food to pass his lips. Though everyone said he was a god, the very spirit of Ra himself, I knew my father was mortal and Osiris could snatch his soul from him, as he could from any of us at any given moment. The devourer was not to be tr
usted, nor men when they did his bidding.

  “Well, I do wish my father would get to the point of why he wanted this visit.” I moved toward the stairs to return to my rooms. “If a foreign king comes so far, even at my father’s invitation, surely there is no need to drag out the purpose.”

  We passed guards who met us at the base of the stairs, but none followed us down the short hallway to my chambers. I entered and sank onto a cushioned couch, weary with wondering. “I want to meet him, Akila. Truly meet him.” I lifted one foot to allow her to remove my sandals. “Do you think we can devise a way?”

  My maid worked in silence for several moments, her jaw moving, as though she were testing and discarding words. “Would it be seemly for a princess to seek out a king, my lady? Would it not put the relations between your father and this king in jeopardy?”

  I studied my hennaed foot a moment and wiggled my toes, now happily freed from the constraints of sandals. I stood abruptly and walked the length of the room, enjoying the cool feel of the painted floor. But after pacing the room several times, I sank back onto the cushions, defeated. “You are right, of course. I cannot just walk across the palace compound, cross the plains, and enter his tents uninvited. Not even a servant would be so bold without a cause.”

  Akila brought me a goblet of wine to ease my pouting, and I drank gladly. There must be a way to at least speak with this foreign king, who seemed to understand our language without a single hint of stumbling. But as I stared through my window into the moonlit night, I could think of nothing, no way to breach court etiquette or even sneak away as a commoner to glimpse what my heart desired. And in truth, I was not even sure my heart wanted such a thing. I think I just wanted to know whether my flippant words had been worth speaking.

  Two days later, after deciding that my desire to meet King Solomon was not worth troubling myself over, I took a walk with Akila in the central garden encased inside Pharaoh’s grand courtyard.

  The day was pleasant enough, though with summer upon us, I wished the wig I was forced to wear at the bottom of the Nile. For all the sheer linen of our clothing to keep us cool, Egyptians did not seem to realize that the wigs we fashioned canceled out our efforts. But beauty mattered more than comfort, and I resigned myself to do my part.

  The breeze lifted my spirits, bringing with it the scent of lotus blossoms floating on the wide pool that took up the center of the garden. Bastet’s shrine stood tall at the end of the walkway, just past the pool. I had not been to her shrine in far too long. Abdukar had replaced my need of her, I told myself, trying to allay my guilt. I praised the cat often enough and thanked Bastet for Abdukar’s protection over me. But I should have paid her priests to place an offering before her on my behalf, to show my faithfulness to her.

  We rounded the curve in the path at the end of the pool, whose blue tiles sparkled like lapis lazuli, and when I looked up, my heart nearly stopped beating. There, not far from Bastet’s shrine, in all his royal splendor, sat King Solomon. He was not alone, of course, but spoke to my father’s vizier, which I found curious. Would not a king speak only to another king? But my father would not arrange such a meeting in the gardens. He would hold them in his royal chambers.

  I drew in a breath and glanced quickly at Akila, whose wide eyes told me she had noticed the king as well. I should move closer, let him catch a glimpse of me. But no. I dare not interrupt such a meeting. Better to honor Bastet with a prayer and move on.

  I moved toward the base of the tall cat statue and slowly knelt before her image. I would have stayed longer, fully intending to pray to her, but I found that the words would not form in my thoughts. All I could think of in that moment was King Solomon. I stood, frustrated with myself, and walked closer to Akila.

  “It is no use,” I said. “I cannot think as I should.” Was there not some way to gain King Solomon’s attention? My back was to the place where Solomon sat with my father’s vizier, while I faced Akila. But at her wide-eyed look, I slowly turned.

  “You are Pharaoh’s daughter, are you not?” His dialect was distinctly Hebrew, though the words were perfect Egyptian.

  I stared, my heart pounding. Had my longing to speak to him spread to his ears? I had not spoken the request, nor even prayed it. And yet there he stood.

  I bowed, willing my anxiety to ease. “And you are King Solomon,” I said, surprised that my voice did not quake as my insides were doing at that moment.

  “It appears we are both rather observant.” His smile, lazy and yet holding that hint of power that kings carried no matter where they seemed to be, nearly stole my breath. “But I fear I am at a disadvantage, as I do not know your name.”

  “Siti,” I said too quickly. “Younger daughter of Siamun, the Great Pharaoh, and the Great Royal Wife. You would have met my sister’s husband, Hamadi, crown prince of Egypt.”

  Solomon tilted his head in such a way that his gaze fully captured mine. “You are the unmarried daughter of Pharaoh?”

  I nodded, unable to speak at the sudden spark of interest in his gaze.

  “It is my pleasure to meet you, Siti.” He bowed slightly, and I did the same. He stood close enough for me to smell the scent of his heady spikenard.

  “And mine as well,” I said past a dry throat. I discreetly cleared it and offered him a slight smile. “I have listened to you speak in my father’s chambers. Your depth of knowledge is impressive.”

  He seemed almost embarrassed at the praise but recovered quickly and lifted his head. “Any wisdom I have comes from our great God, the Creator of all things. I take no credit for it myself.” He glanced beyond me at the statue of Bastet. “Is this the god you worship?”

  I nodded and swallowed, trying to form some suitable reply. “Yes. Bastet is a great protector of women and children. She is the god I chose when I was but a small child.”

  “And why did you choose her?” He seemed genuinely interested in my answer, and his smile put me at ease.

  I shrugged. “Perhaps because I love cats. Lapis, my favorite, kept me company in my crib and chased away the devourer, who surely wanted to snatch my soul at times when I grew ill. Bastet restored me to health, and I have worshiped her ever since.” I almost winced at the slight lie and silently begged Bastet’s forgiveness, for I had not worshiped her as a faithful follower should.

  “And how do you know Bastet was the one who saved you? Perhaps the Creator spared your soul.” His question was not spoken in the typical tone of mocking that I heard so often from my brothers who preferred other gods.

  I looked at him, daring to meet his interested gaze. “You truly want to know?”

  “Of course. Why ask a question if you do not wish to know the answer?”

  “Some questions are spoken rhetorically, with no response needed. And some statements are meant to be questions, as my father is so fond of using them—requiring an answer though they seem not to need one.” I released a long-held breath, relieved that my heart had managed to slow to a semi-normal rhythm.

  “Your answer shows great wisdom, Daughter of Pharaoh,” he said, bowing toward me again. “But to answer your question, yes, I truly want to know why you worship a stone image of an animal. Is not the enjoyment of the animal that walks the earth enough? Why not worship the one who created the beast in the first place?”

  His question made me pause. How to answer without offending Bastet? “You pose a dilemma for me, oh king. Which god do you wish me to offend? My patron goddess or your creator?”

  He studied me, and I found my heart beating faster again. Never in my life had I enjoyed such stimulating conversation with a man. Oh Amun, may it last forever!

  “I think my question is one you must ponder and decide for yourself, Princess. But as you think on the wisdom of your answer, ask yourself which god holds the greater power. The one made or the one who makes it? I think you will find your answer there.”

  He took a step back from me then, and I knew our conversation was at an end. “I will think on it,” I s
aid quickly, already feeling the loss of his presence.

  “I would like to see you again, Siti,” he said softly. My given name on his tongue set my heart aflame. “Would another meeting please you?”

  I nodded, too dumbstruck to speak.

  “Good. Expect it then.” He turned and strode away with his guards, who only now seemed to materialize from the hedges that surrounded us. They had been watching him, watching us, the entire time.

  I took Akila’s arm, gripping it for strength, as I was not sure my own legs would carry me, and went back in the direction from which we had come.

  6

  Weeks passed with a flurry of activity surrounding King Solomon’s visit. Most of the time the near chaos was simply anxious servants fluttering about like overactive bees, flighty, darting here and there, all hurriedly planning a grand celebration my father intended for King Solomon’s final week in Egypt.

  I had tried not to pout overmuch during the time just past, when my father took King Solomon for a grand tour of his stables, giving the Hebrew king horses and chariots as gifts, then surprising us all when he declared they would make a visit to the Valley of Kings. My father, the Great Pharaoh, had decided to show King Solomon the work slaves had done and continued to do on his tomb. I shivered at the very thought. I did not like the Valley of Kings, though I knew as royalty, I would someday have a small burial spot near my father.

  I did not like to think about such things, despite my people’s concerns with the afterlife and the planning of our final destination through the underworld. The devourer would surely destroy me at the scales where hearts are weighed in the balance, for I knew my heart was far from pure and truthful. Bastet forgive me, but I feared I would fail utterly against the Feather of Truth when that day approached.

  I shuddered, pushing the thoughts aside as Akila and I strode through the palace halls, hoping for a glimpse of the banquet’s grandeur, though I would see it in all its splendor this evening.