It was only a sound. A clink, similar to golden bracelets dangling loosely from the joints of the dancing women and priestesses. Nothing unusual, and yet the unfamiliar sound accompanied him all the way into the palace, where he passed the wheat to a slave. Fatrada faded into the background. Her importance vanished in a breeze of his perception, and when he glanced back at the feast and saw Ramesses in his place, she slipped into oblivion. Just for a moment, as if the greed for her name had been everything.
The pharaoh’s suddenly inviting gesture directed him back to the table. The tightness in Assou’s chest increased. Still, he bridged the distance to sit down beside his ruler – straight across from Maathorneferure. Her dark eyes sparkled in the flickering glow of the nearby fire goblets; devouring him as if he were an unwanted maggot at the table of nobility. Simultaneously, a honeyed smile lurked on her features, completely unsullied by the mood behind it.
“Enjoying the feast, my Vizier?” Ramesses’ raspy voice snapped Assou out of his observation.
“It is a lively feast, my Pharaoh. The good mood continues,” he replied, Maathorneferure’s rigid stance always in view.
“That is good to hear.” Ramesses joyfully raised his drink, and it was hardly believable that he was still sober. “What do you say, would it be worth our while to allow the slaves a day off tomorrow?”
“As a farce?”
“As a farce,” Ramesses confirmed.
“Only if we pass the word and present it to other countries and cities. It might well benefit us. If the other countries think we treat slaves better than others, and the result ensures that our production and construction remain stable, it could prove, especially in negotiations, that the pharaoh’s decisions aren’t just divine but also humanly generous. This lowers the anxiety of all those who don’t believe that you possess a heart, my Pharaoh.” Briefly, Assou put his head back. “It would be worth a try. There can be no negative effects, except for a day of no production.”
“Does it matter?” Unasked, Maathorneferure interjected. “We are one of the most powerful countries around. Why should we care what others think? If they don’t submit, we’ll see to it.”
“That’s not the point,” Assou countered. “We need to strengthen our position without provoking war. We may be powerful, but the gods didn’t give us this land to make us greedy. This land is ours and peace is what we must build on.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits as the corners of her mouth twitched. “Didn’t the gods give us this land to expand? We could make it all our empire.”
“Maathorneferure, be silent!” Without further ado, Ramesses raised his hand, not even turning his interest in her direction. To him, she was just another woman, another gem in his chest of mighty riches. “You don’t understand the principles of peace. Better devote yourself to your tasks. Pray to the gods that they may make you fruitful and that we may produce healthy heirs. Now go.”
She opened her mouth, but silence overpowered her every word. What remained was a contemptuous snort as she rose. “Of course, my Pharaoh.”
“Women. Some of them meddle in matters they possess no knowledge of,” Ramesses II continued. “But she is a bringer of peace and has been blessed by the gods with exceptional beauty. Let her ignorance be forgiven.”
Her features did indeed seem like the work of the gods, created to fuel wars and spread chaos. A trap they had to keep a watchful eye on. Still, he nodded to his king’s approval. “The marriage has ensured that her magnificence will be known throughout the land.”
“It will. Splendour and grace will bring unity. One might believe that she indeed carries the blood of the gods. She will bear powerful sons.” The lightness in Ramesses’ words made his statement desirable. Even when considering Maathorneferure’s character.
“When do you intend to take a wife, my Vizier?” Again, his Pharaoh changed the subject, letting the curiosity of his dull days drift into awkward questions. “You are a rich man of status. Is there no woman to arouse your desire? I have heard rumours you are dissatisfied with the choice. Yet fine women have their eyes on you.”
Barely noticeably, Assou averted his gaze. The only woman he was interested in was married. “I have already given my wish to the gods. But they gave me a test to pass.”
“I trust your words.” His king’s slow nod faded into the background.
The conversation had turned Assou’s thoughts in the wrong direction. Racking his brains over Fatrada and her life while a feast of good cheer coursed across the city was nothing but wasted time. There was nothing he could do. Nothing that would make these breaths successful all at once. Setting her aside, well guarded, and letting the tightness rest in his chest was wiser. That which occupied the back of his mind wasn’t what he should be doing.
In this life, he had wasted his chance.
Inwardly, he shook his head. Letting her go was as impossible as escaping the pharaoh. She was the first woman who had ever occupied his thoughts. The first person who had triggered a throbbing in his chest that he couldn’t resist.
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Resting his chin on one hand, Assou let his imagination carry him away, into fragrant rooms and forgotten fields where golden reeds grew metres high to the gods. The words of the people passed. It no longer needed language. No one could hear him, but everyone could see him.
“Assou!” Harsh, Ramesses snapped the placid image in two and brought the meal back to the fore. The babble of voices that had seemed so void before clung to the vizier’s nerves once more. “Do you hear?”
“Forgive me, my Pharaoh. I was in thought.”
“About the slaves?”
He couldn’t help but raise his brows and wait before nodding slowly. Not listening to Ramesses was dangerous. He wasn’t an impulsive man, but his trust was at least as fickle as his moods in locked solitude. When he spoke, it was necessary to hang on his lips, no matter how trivial the matter. So the tjati nodded once more.
“Is there already a plan to replace the missing slaves?”
The sigh on Assou’s lips faltered. It was a tiresome subject to avoid. The heat pushed the forced labourers to their knees, killing them as if it were the only mercy they were allowed. Many were consumed in short nights; inflammation spread the pungent smell of rotten flesh and the food rations were so meagre that weakness ate through the bones of the youngest. If he wanted to keep the pharaoh satisfied, fresh blood had to be thrust into the heat of the land – another task to which Assou could only devote himself with half a heart. Most of these people deserved better than life among stone, heat and dead comrades.
“It is time to take the children of the poorest villages. The young ones, of course. All those who are no good for the fields,” Assou continued, drawn out. “Most families will thank you when they have fewer mouths to feed.”
“Wise words,” agreed Ramesses. “Take care of it. We will take what we need from places that can consider it a blessing and an honour.”
“As you wish, my Pharaoh. Now, if you will excuse me.” With a curt bow, Assou rose. The bite of the wine bathed the conversation in pale oblivion and for a few steps, he thought his feet couldn’t follow a straight line. His body swayed, his world spun, and no matter how he turned his head, people formed into unsteady dents.
Still, he reached the palace without stumbling.
The slaves were handling the high-ranking guests outside the protective four walls and only two messengers, who had settled on the stairs and were tugging at their hard bread, stayed out of the chaos. Assou took the moment to order one of them to pass on Ramesses’ word to the slave overseers before stepping out into the hallway.
The light from the fire bowls still drew far too long shadows across the walls. But this time they led the way for him and none of them were big enough to belong to the third Great Royal Queen. The only mercy his wavering spirit truly grasped.
Half in a trance, he tucked Maathorneferure’s existence away in the back of his mind. Her importance sank. Her words were only a distant mumble in the face of his unsteady figure; and by the time he reached his workroom, at the latest, she was forgotten. His lungs filled with air once more. The feast beaded from his shoulders and somewhere in front of the table he had so indecently loaded with papyrus rolls, he took a seat. But the momentum as he lowered himself to the floor, and the delightful twists of the shelves on the walls, jerked him backwards onto the hard stone. The ceiling lingered motionless above him.
His thoughts allowed themselves to roam the worlds outside his body, to follow the rush before they lingered on the warm, soft eyes of Fatrada. Her gentle smile and oval face, framed by warm strands that danced to the evening sun, made the images behind closed eyes tangible. He thought he perceived her scent, though he had never come close enough to smell her.
The way her cheeks stood out when she laughed gave her brown skin an enchanting glow. That all these idiosyncrasies had already lured another man to her side was understandable. It was so terribly obvious that Assou couldn’t suppress the wry smile. He was a fool. A fool who had actually believed that a woman like her would wait for someone like him.
The sigh on his lips weighed heavily as he turned to the side, trying to find a more comfortable position. The throbbing in his chest that sent sharp pinpricks through his body clung to Fatrada. It fought back against his mind – against the understanding of having to let her go. Instead, it pushed ideas into his mind. Plans he didn’t want to make and yet took possession of him like a dream. All at once, all he had to do was get rid of Fatrada’s man.
Snorting, Assou picked himself up again. Knowing Fatrada in the hands of another twisted every good thought.
Legs bent, he braced himself on his hands to move, to stand up safely. But before he could support his weight, the door to his study creaked open. The wood opened a crack, letting a bland glow of light enter the darkness of his room – followed closely by silent paws that settled a few steps beyond the entrance.
Amenti’s black fur shone as she lifted her paws and slid her tongue gently over the darkness. She looked as if she had done a job; a good deed that Assou couldn’t see. Until, all at once, a slave burst in and held out his hands to the cat. His hasty movements startled the animal, causing it to leap onto the table in one bound. The slave, meanwhile, stumbled and fell. The hiss on his lips was hardly more than a whisper, and when Assou raised his hand to inquire if all was well, the shock went through the boy’s body as well.
“Vizier, forgive the inconvenience!” Still on his knees, he bowed and slammed his forehead on the floor. “I do not wish to disturb you. I saw the cat running around and going into other people’s rooms, so I wanted to catch it and bring it to Queen Meritamen.” He raised his head. “But she is a swift creature.”
Assou didn’t listen at all. Instead, he eyed the child’s slender body and frowned. “Are you a slave or a messenger?”
“A messenger who recently passed on a message to the guards,” the boy replied. “Is there anything I can do?”
It was as if the gods had sent him this boy to solve the problem in his mind.
“I’ll give you some gold coins if you get me some information,” Assou began slowly. The boy’s eyes widened, curiosity rose, and all interest fell away from the cat to attach itself to the tjati’s lips. “Find a woman by the name of Fatrada. She is a young wheat seller. On top, she is married. I want you to shadow this woman’s husband and inform me of everything he does. But don’t get caught.”
“As you wish, Vizier!” With another deep bow, the boy obliged and left the room. Assou remained behind. The cat was no longer there. The manageable mess it had left behind remained uninteresting, and sleep ate away at his thoughts. He could do nothing more than wait. Until the boy brought news, he had to do his chores and forget about Fatrada. Her and everything else that weighed on his nerves.
So he lay down once more and accepted the darkness that had remained. Only the dull light of the outside world shimmered through a hole in the wall. The noise of the celebrating guests barely reached him. And when he closed his eyelids, he was greeted by the smile of a woman in whose arms he wanted to perish.