The Sekhmet Bed (6 page)

Thutmose climbed onto the lake’s lip, then offered a hand to Mutnofret. She hiked up her skirt and took his hand, her cheesk coloring when her skin touched his. Ahmose, watching, bit her lip.

When Mutnofret had lowered herself gracefully to a stack of cushions, Thutmose turned to help Ahmose aboard. “I swear I’ve met you someplace before,” he said with a wink. Ahmose giggled, which made him break into his horsey grin. When his hand closed around hers, a shaky heat flared through her. Her palm tingled with the memory of his rough, callused fingers even after she’d seated herself by Nofret’s side.

Thutmose loosed the ropes holding the barge, then found the quant and began poling them toward the center of the lake. “And so the great journey began,” he said. “The lucky soldier stole the two beautiful princesses from their father’s house and put them on his magic boat. He took them far away down the Nile, where nobody would be able to find them….”

“
You don’t need to steal me,” Mutnofret said. “I’ll come along willingly.”

“
Will you, now?” Thutmose let the boat slow, then tucked the quant into the hull. The barge drifted. He made his careful way to the table, strong arms stretched low to counter the boat’s rocking. “Let’s have some breakfast, shall we?”

There was honey for their bread, and berries in milk, and two kinds of cheese. Ahmose could barely eat, her stomach was so fluttery. She recalled how close she’d stood to Thutmose in the chariot, how strong he’d looked standing on the crest of the hill in the moonlight, and her skin felt too hot in the sun. She had never been so closer to a man than she had been to Thutmose, and here he was again, sharing his morning meal. She kept glancing at the shapes of the muscles in his arms and shoulders, the path of a raised vein that ran over the outside of his arm like a tiny brown river. She was fascinated by the maleness of him.

As they talked, Thutmose would sometimes give his big, barking laugh. The first time he did it Mutnofret blinked, obviously taken aback by his uncouth manner. He was unlike the noblemen Mutnofret was used to, Ahmose knew. But as the First Princess became accustomed to Thutmose’s sense of humor she began trying to make him laugh, coaxing it out of him with funny stories or bawdy jokes. At first, Ahmose laughed right along with Thutmose. But as he paid more attention to Mutnofret, each of his smiles brought a twinge of jealousy. Soon Mutnofret was reclining on her cushions, stretching in the sun, eyes closed, head back, soft neck bared. Her body was long and round, like curves of the river, as ripe as Iset and lovely as a song.

“
Mmm, the sun feels so nice, don’t you think?”

Thutmose said nothing, only sipped his wine; but his eyes wandered from Mutnofret’s face down the line of her throat to her breasts; then to her softly rounded belly and hips, curving bright through her sun-soaked linen. Ahmose bit her lips together and looked away, sharply aware of the smallness of her own breasts and the hard angles of her young body. Beside Mutnofret, she was as plain as a pebble. She wished they were back on the shore again.

“
I’ve brought you both some little gifts,” Thutmose said. “What about it? Are you interested?”

Mutnofret sat up at once and leaned forward, closing her eyes and holding out her hands. Thutmose had a leather bag in the hull next to him. He pulled out of it a small bundle wrapped in blue fabric, dropped it into Nofret’s palms. She opened her eyes, then opened the cloth. “Oh! What is this stone?” It was a pendant made of some shiny, bright white rock, carved in the shape of a crouching lioness.

“
Not a stone,” Thutmose said. “It’s ivory. It’s so white because I just had it carved for you yesterday. I asked your mother about you and she said you are as fierce as anything the gods ever made. I thought a lioness would be perfect. I hope you like it.”

“
It’s beautiful,” Mutnofret said, clutching the pendant to her heart. “I’ll wear it at our wedding feast. Look, Ahmose.”

She held the lioness out so Ahmose could examine it. It was indeed a marvelous carving, perfectly detailed. Its eye was a tiny, hard, sparkling flake of obsidian. Thutmose must have paid plenty to commission such a skilled carver.

“
And here is your gift, Ahmoset.” She blushed. Only Nofret and her childhood nurse had ever used the familiar name with her before. It made her delightfully giddy, for Thutmose to address her with such affection.

He handed her a red cloth bundle, larger and heavier than Mutnofret’s. She squeezed it through the cloth without unwrapping it. It was about as long as her hand and bumpy. Another carving, then.

When she peeled back the red cloth, she gasped. The face of the goddess Mut looked back at her. The carving was exquisite. Mut’s face, arms, and bared breasts were of rosy alabaster; her hair was jet; her carnelian dress was polished to a brilliant sheen. The double crown of Egypt was upon her head, ivory and red jasper, as delicate as a feather. Ahmose could not speak.

“
To beautify your worship, my god-chosen wife.” Thutmose’s words were light, as if this gift was a bauble, as if calling her
wife
was all in a day’s jesting. But Ahmose’s hands clutched the statue of Mut as if they would never let go, and her heart held onto the word as if its sound was the breath of life.

Wordless, Ahmose turned to show her gift to her sister. Nofret’s smile was tight. It never touched her eyes.

FIVE

“
I believe you were right about Thutmose,” Mutnofret said.

She had invited Ahmose to bathe with her after supper. They lay in Mutnofret’s tiled pool, relaxed and quiet. Crushed herbs floated on the water, their earthy scent rising on the steam. Two of Nofret’s women arrived, carrying a kettle of hot water between them. They upended it into the bath, and the heat crept up Ahmose’s legs.

Meeting Thutmose, flirting with him, appeared to have brought Mutnofret around. She was still hurt, of course; sometimes it showed. But Nofret seemed committed to renewing the closeness she and Ahmose had enjoyed until that mad day in the throne room.

“
How was I right?” Ahmose asked lazily.

“
He is
suitable
.” Mutnofret rolled over in the water, propping herself on her elbows. Her back swept down into the bath; her buttocks rose out of the water again, two perfect round islands.

Ahmose sat up and crossed her arms over her small breasts. “I’m glad you like him. I’m sure he likes you as well. I think he’ll be a good husband, don’t you?”

“
Mm, much better than a baby for a husband. What strong arms he has.”

Ahmose’s face burned. The bath was far too warm. “I think I’m ready to get out now. Will you scrape me?”

Nofret rose, elegant as an ibis taking wing. The water streamed from her body, sparkling in the light of the bath’s braziers as it ran off her rounded flesh. She reached a hand down to help Ahmose to her feet. Her eyes traveled down Ahmose’s body; the corner of Nofret’s mouth quirked.

“
What?”

“
You need to be plucked, little sister. Let me call one of my women. They’re very good. They never miss a hair.”

While they waited for the woman to come with her tweezers and ointments, Ahmose and Mutnofret scraped each other’s skin with curved copper strips. It was invigorating after the hot bath. Water puddled on the tiles around their feet.

“
And how is your little Northern friend?” Mutnofret asked, sliding her scraper down Ahmose’s back.

“
Aiya? She’s as well as can be, I suppose. She’ll have her baby soon.”

Mutnofret tutted. “Poor young thing. She’s so small.”

The scraper hissed like a cat as it slid over Ahmose’s skin. She shivered. “What do you mean?”

“
Oh, the dangers of childbirth, the risk.” Mutnofret’s voice was light, unconcerned. “You know what they say about all that terrible business.”

“
Well…of course it’s dangerous, sometimes. But you don’t think Aiya is really in more danger than most, do you?”

“
But Ahmose, she’s so young.”

“
She’s not that much younger than you.”

“
You don’t see me with a big belly. I’d never risk my life that way, until I was sure I was old enough to survive.”

Survive?
“Nonsense, Nofret! Plenty of women have babies at Aiya’s age.”

“
Plenty of women die having babies at Aiya’s age. But let’s talk of more pleasant things. I don’t want to upset you.”

Shaken, Ahmose cast about for a change of subject. “I’ve never been as good with clothing as you, Nofret. What should I wear to our wedding?”

“
Green, definitely,” she said, unhesitating. “It looks glorious against your skin. It brings out your eyes well, too. You’re stunning in that color. You have a green gown, yes? I know I’ve seen you in one.”

The green gown was the plainest one Ahmose had, except for her ratty old red tunic. It was serviceable and comfortable, but there was nothing especially fine about it. “My green dress? But it’s so ordinary.”

“
Silly, you don’t need to look like you’ve rolled out of a jewel chest be beautiful. If you load yourself with fine fabrics and gold and gems you’ll only look insecure. A queen should look confident, don’t you think? Naturally strong.”

Ahmose chewed her lip. Mutnofret wouldn’t steer her wrong. And Ahmose had never paid much attention to trends. Maybe all the women were dressing in a quieter way these days. Ahmose certainly could not say. At court she was more likely to mind what the politicians were discussing than what anyone was wearing.

“
All right. What about my jewelry?”

“
Hardly anything. Keep it simple. Understated is very elegant. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“
Oh, thank you, Nofret. I just never know how to make myself look my best. It’s so good of you to help me.”

“
I’ll help you any way I can, dear little Ahmose. We’re still sisters, above all.”

Ahmose squeezed Nofret’s hand. “Always sisters.”

Mutnofret’s body servant arrived and laid out a towel on a long, high bench. The bench stood below a wall muraled in faience. Ahmose lay back and studied the scene, wincing, to keep her mind off the ordeal to come. She hated being plucked, but she hated being hairy even more. She kept her eyes on the mural: nude women swam and played in a secluded river pool screened by tall, bright papyrus leaves. A man’s face peeked out between the leaves, spying on the bathing girls. Mutnofret must have found the mural amusing, but to Ahmose it was distasteful. She looked away, groped for conversation while the woman rubbed a soothing ointment into her legs and groin. Anything to distract her from the task at hand.

“
How long do you suppose the feast will last?”

“
Oh, hours, I’m sure.”

“
I’ve never been to a wedding before. Well – I’ve been when I was a little girl, but I don’t remember much of it.”

“
I remember both the weddings I’ve seen. There’s a lot of music, and ever so many courses for dinner. And gifts for the brides and groom.”

“
Will we dance?” Ahmose loved to dance.

“
Not us. We will have to be dignified. But I’m sure the stewards will hire the best dancers in the kingdom. And there will be plays and acrobats and poetry recitals. Most of the nobles will drink too much. That’s always fun to watch.” Mutnofret had slipped into a fresh gown, soft white linen. She tied it, smiling slyly. “And then, after the celebration, the wedding night.”

“
The wedding night?”

Mutnofret laughed. “Oh, Ahmose. Sometimes I forget how young you are, you sweet child.”

The plucking-lady tittered, hid a smile behind her free hand.

“
What happens?” Ahmose insisted.

“
That is when our husband will take us.”

“
Take
us?”

Mutnofret laughed again, then drifted over to the bench. She pinched Ahmose’s cheek just as if she were a helpless baby. “He will take our maidenhood. I assume you’re still a maiden, yes?”

“
Oh, that. I know all about that. It’s just that I’ve never heard it called
taking
before.”

Mutnofret rolled her eyes. Drily she said, “So you’re not that young after all. I was afraid I’d have to explain it all to you. I just hope he doesn’t fancy taking us both at the same time.”