His thoughts were free to drift off, to be unrestrained, and to go over things again. The burning inside had disappeared. What remained was emptiness. Loneliness that left room for hope.
With luck, his messenger would return soon, bringing good news. To fight Nagib as a rival, he had to get to know him. He had to learn to understand his faults and had to see what this man was doing every second of his life. Only then would he be able to do something. Only with the right weapons could he win Fatrada over without provoking her hatred. It was quite simple. In the end, everyone had something to hide. Even if it was only a secret from childhood. Something always lay in the shallows of a soul. That was the only reason the gods sometimes took pity on them and offered help.
The certainty gave him new strength and suppressed the mind. It gave him security to lift his head and notice that Amenti had disappeared. Instead, the palace loomed before him.
Assou took one last breath before heading for the entrance. The path to the shadows of the interior remained endless, proving that his thoughts had still not detached from Nagib and simultaneously not knowing if they wanted to follow the vizier’s labours for the rest of the day. Questions pierced him, clinging to his conscience and smiling at his attempts to shake off anything negative. It took a moment for the mockery within him to fade and the shadow of the palace to wrap its protective arms around him. The heat ebbed and each breath Assou took was freer than before.
“Is it not shameful to be a vizier courting the hand of a wheat seller?” It was Maathorneferure’s voice that reached him through the clouds of his thoughts.
Instantly, the tjati let his gaze wander, only to linger on the figure of the queen leaning gallantly against the wall. Crossing her arms in front of her ample chest, she gave him a smile that threatened to engulf him. He straightened his shoulders. He couldn’t show any weakness to her. She would savour his every mistake. So he struggled to a thin smile.
“I wish you a pleasant day too, Great Royal Queen.”
Excessive kindness had no value towards her. She wasn’t his queen - at least not the way it might have been best. Maathorneferure was nothing more than Ramesses’ third wife, who had to hold her own alongside Meritamen and Bintanath. She was nothing more than a woman who had found a place in this place for political reasons.
“Did she steal your tongue, Vizier?” She dragged out his position, almost making it an exhibition of humour, as she pushed herself off the wall and raised a brow.
“Not at all,” he replied slowly. “But to my regret, I have no time to make conversation with a woman who has no knowledge about political matters. A conversation with you has no added value for me. And now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”
With a curt nod, he moved on again to attend to his duties. In the end, there was always something to do, even if it was just holding on to writings that had been gathering dust in his chambers for far too long. Anything was better than having to stay in the presence of this woman.
But Maathorneferure didn’t let up. “Is that so? Yet I thought you would like to talk to someone about Nagib.”
The twitch coursed through Assou’s whole body. His shoulders slumped, his steps stumbled and though he hadn’t wanted to turn around, his body gave in to her voice. Before he had even gathered the right words, he was looking into her hawk eyes again - saturated with dark clouds that turned the haunting brown of her irises into a deep abyss of uncertainty.
“How do you know about this?” His voice was just a hiss, quick and biting. But the imperious smile on her lips took pleasure in his every emotion. In her world, someone like him posed no threat.
“Vizier ... I, too, have my messengers and slaves in this palace. Do you really think I would miss a single thing?” She shrugged before brushing her long hair over her shoulder. “Somehow you have to pass the time in this place and I am very fortunate that you and your foolishness bring a little entertainment.”
He wanted to object, opened his mouth, took a breath, was ready to bring her to her knees - and discarded any attempt when she raised her hand to silence him. Her royal elegance shone through for a moment too long, nestling against his ears like a giggle, making him wince as she directed her words at him again.
“Is it not truly foolish to desire a woman of the lower folk?” She took a few steps closer. “You are a vizier. Your attention should be on the rich women of the upper families. Not on a woman who sells wheat.” She waved it off. “Not as if I have any idea which woman would be ideal for you, but we both know that Fatrada is just about fit to be a slave of the palace.”
“If we go by that sense, you, too, are just good enough to keep peace. For any other reason, our Pharaoh would never have bothered to marry a woman like you. There are better choices in the land.” It was a lie, a simple bluff Assou uttered as if it were the only truth that could be found in the palace. Yet Ramesses would probably have fallen for her either way. To say otherwise was insanity, and yet it was all he had as a weapon. “Did you know that Ramesses almost refused the offer to marry you had the benefits not been raised a little further? You are but a means to an end.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“And yet I am your queen!” Her voice rose as she lowered her lids. “You know that your every word could get you killed. You could even lose your post as vizier and we both know that would embitter you. However, it would bring you closer to your Fatrada.”
Lips pressed together, Assou stared at her and watched Maathorneferure move closer and closer until she could place a hand on his shoulder. “Can it be that you desire this woman because you don’t know what allure the beauties of the upper classes can offer?” She leaned up to his ear. “Or because you know you can never possess a goddess like me? Is that why you stack so low?”
“It is almost laughable that you think you play a part in my thoughts.” Firmly, if carefully, he pushed Maathorneferure’s hand from his shoulder before taking a step back. “What do you want from me?”
For a moment, she eyed every inch of his pathetic defence. Her gaze revealed everything and nothing at the same time. Assou didn’t know how to interpret it, understood only that there were a thousand answers to his question, not one of which she uttered. She seemed to have an explanation for everything and, in the same breath, didn’t want to confess anything; as if her own thoughts were a shame she didn’t want to face.
As a result, she resumed her old position - arms folded in front of her chest, while serenity dominated her features. “I want to see you in my chambers tonight, to show you what the difference is between your sweetheart, the women of the palace, and me.” Her lips puckered briefly before she tilted her head. “Should you refuse, remember that any decision you make could negatively affect Fatrada. She may even have to suffer in your place. Who knows?”
His problems were no part of Fatrada. Maathorneferure knew that. She seemed to know him almost better than he would have liked, and she didn’t let herself miss the delicious moment of going first. For her, it was a victory. A successful vendetta. The entire world was at her feet. Except him.
Maybe that was why she attacked him; why she didn’t let him go, even though it wasn’t hard to avoid each other in this palace. Neither Meritamen nor Bintanath he saw more than twice a year. Only Maathorneferure kept turning up.
He ran the flat of his hands over his face. Making sense of Maathorneferure’s plans had the same charm as helping slaves build pyramids. Questioning this woman’s logic was futile. The only thing he knew was that she was driven by discontent. She left him no choice, no way to evade when she brought Fatrada into the picture. If he wanted to prevent her from getting into trouble on his account, a late-night visit was nothing more than a trifle he would indulge in. She would probably fill the evening with dancing and laughter. Perhaps she would even put him on display. Nothing earth-shattering and thus nothing he had to resist with all his might.
All that remained was for him to go back to the study. To the room where no one would disturb him as long as he pretended to be concentrating. That was better than dwelling on Maathorneferure’s spitefulness. It was best to forget about her for the rest of the day.
His legs carried him straight to his destination. The heat held off thanks to the stone of the palace and the shade in the corridors was cool enough to soothe his hot soles.
It was little different in his study. The hole, far up in the wall, gave light and let in warmth. The rest drenched itself in pleasant cold, which Assou instantly embraced.
Still, as he settled behind his low table, no relaxation caught up with him. The papyrus had never stopped piling up, and whenever he thought of bringing order to this chaos, his thoughts drifted off in other directions. A bath would have been pleasant. Finding out about the messenger would keep him going. These were things that had much more appeal than the transcripts of any monetary income of the past years for which he hadn’t been responsible.
Perhaps that was a peculiarity of the viziers. One collected information relating to their work, piled it up in one place and hoped that the next generation would think about archiving the stuff or at least transcribing it properly so that people could grasp even the slightest of what was written there.
The purring of a cat snapped him out of his thoughts. A sideways glance brought Kuss into view. The four-legged cat’s silvery fur was just nestling against one of his legs when Assou realised that this tomcat had gained access without coming through the door. Without further ado, his gaze fell to the upper hole in the wall. There was nothing outside the room that could have helped him, and yet Kuss’ body nestled against him as if it were natural.
“You’ve had it with me lately, haven’t you?” Mouth agape, Assou placed a hand on the soft fur. It was thicker than Amenti’s. “You must be feeling hot.”
The cat’s mewing didn’t sound like agreement, but it didn’t betray disagreement either, and the fact he was even concerned about it made him shake his head. Then he took a deep breath. His thoughts had fallen into a mess that resembled the endless scrolls of papyrus staring at him as if it was his fault they didn’t have a permanent place on some shelf.
“Gather yourself, Assou,” he told himself. “You’re not living up to your position by acting like a desperate boy. Since when did you become such an idiot? Fatrada didn’t upset you like that before, did she? She is just one woman among many! What would your father say to that?”
His attitude froze that very moment. He didn’t want to know what his father would say. This man had given everything to make a decent, successful man out of his son. He had been dead for four years and buried next to his wife, but even on the day they had buried him, Assou had been sure that there had still been life in him. He had been a clever man. Smarter than most. He probably would have had no trouble finding an option to put Maathorneferure in her place and forget about Fatrada.
Assou’s eyes narrowed as he thought of his father’s smile. Of the lecturing words and kindness he had been given between explicit instructions. Next to him, his mother, whose weak body had given up early and lived on in his memories for years. She had always stroked his head when he had been little. Touches that had shown him that mistakes were okay and that despite everything, he had a place to return to.
A place that no longer existed.