A Divine Romance, page 13
I am living my nightmare! Surely he is the oarsman, and he is trying to make me incur the wrath of Ra. He must be a powerful sorcerer to have bewitched the lord of Egypt into agreeing to his utterly absurd condition. I have to get away from him. I have to escape!
The more she thought about it, the more her fears multiplied, and the more urgently she wanted to execute her plan. But if she were to do so successfully, she needed someone in her corner that was both fearless and fiercely loyal. Thankfully, the one person who fit that description was still here, awaiting the so-called assurance of her happiness. Yesterday, she had sent him word via Semat, asking that he wait a night or two longer, and promising to inform him when he could return with good news for her father. At the time, she thought consummation was imminent—once she unearthed how best to entice the vizier. Alas, thanks to his uncompromising devotion to his God, he was impossible to seduce. So, that was no longer her priority.
What a fool I was; not any more. Tossing her covering aside and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she looked at her concerned handmaiden. “Semat, deaf walls.”
Her chief handmaiden immediately exited. Asenath knew she was scanning the hallway, and waited, her foot tapping the plush animal skin rug beneath it. Within moments, Semat returned with the assurance Asenath needed.
“We are alone, my lady.”
Satisfied that no one would overhear her, Asenath rose. “Semat, look at me. You are the only one I trust who knows things have not gone as planned between the vizier and me. No one else must find out. Now, I need you to swear that regarding the events that transpire next, you will be blind, deaf, and mute.”
Semat’s eyes widened. “My lady—”
“Swear it, Semat!” Asenath snapped.
“By the life of Pharaoh.”
“Now, disrobe. I need us to trade garments.”
“But, my lady . . .”
Asenath gave her a quelling look.
“Forgive me, my lady, it is just that . . . my size . . . perhaps Tsillah’s garments might be better suited?”
Asenath contemplated for a moment. Semat was shorter and thicker than she. Contrarily, Tsillah was equally slender and only slightly taller. “Right you are. Fetch two of Tsillah’s garments and her travel cloak. And bring her along. Swear her to secrecy as well. Go!”
Semat bowed and made a hasty exit as Asenath began walking back and forth across the length of her chamber.
***
Amazing what a change of garments can do, Asenath thought, surveying her reflection with a sense of accomplishment. In Tsillah’s white kalasiris and black riding cloak, she was almost unrecognizable. The only things that could give her away were her voice and her eyes. The former, she could disguise; the latter, she would simply have to hide by keeping her face lowered. Fortunately, for a handmaiden, that was expected.
“Retrieve my black veil.” It was the plainest; it would do. If she left now, she could be there by sunset. Surely her story would earn her some sympathy, at the very least. She took the veil from Semat and fastened it over her nose and mouth. Satisfied, she turned around and surveyed Tsillah. Dressed in her finery, complete with a gold veil, her charming handmaiden could pass for her; as long as the talkative girl held her tongue.
“Listen carefully. I am leaving this villa for a little while. I need some time to plan . . . a surprise. Until you hear otherwise from me, you must keep my absence secret from everyone in this villa. To that end, Tsillah, as of this moment, you are the lady of the house. You are unwell and in need of copious amounts of rest. Recline in my bed. Drink tea. Keep your face veiled and your head hidden in the pillows. Most importantly, if anyone asks questions, softly mumble responses to Semat. She will know what is best to relay.”
Eyes doubled, Tsillah attempted to speak. “But, my lady—”
“I will abide neither excuse nor protest,” Asenath snapped. “May the mighty Ra do so to you and more if you leave this room before I return! Now, lie down!”
The scolded handmaiden hastily reclined herself on the lavish bed and turned her face away.
Asenath pulled Semat aside, whispering, “This is not our first ruse, but it may well be our last; either way, it is our most important one yet. I must not be missed. You know what to do.” Asenath turned, ready to exit her chamber.
“Forgive my impertinence, my lady. But where are you going?”
“It is better if you do not know, Semat. You cannot reveal what you do not know. Have no fear; I will not be alone. Come, we will exit together as though on an errand from our mistress. Head for the servants’ wing—we must find Heqaib.”
“Begging your pardon, my lady, if you are veiled and I am not, might it not arouse suspicion?”
“Good point,” Asenath said, reaching to unclasp her veil.
“Surely you do not mean to exit your chambers with an unveiled face, my lady?” Semat asked, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Have you a better idea, Semat?”
“Perhaps I might also don one of my lady’s black veils, with your permission.”
“An astute plan. Retrieve one forthwith.”
Semat hastily did as she was told.
Asenath surveyed her handmaiden’s partially hidden face with approval. “Excellent. Now, let us make haste.”
Semat exited and after a last glance at the docile Tsillah, Asenath followed. They hurried through the hallways silently. Just as they turned into the south wing, they collided with Wadjenes, who dropped a scroll and cursed.
“What gives? Do you walk asleep?” Wadjenes inquired.
“We could ask you the same!” Asenath retorted.
“What say you? Speak up, virgin; I do not bite!”
Semat hurriedly responded, “We . . . we are morbid with shame! We beg a thousand pardons. My lady asks that we bring a message to HEQAIB, IF HE IS HERE!”
“The curses of Ra! Must you bellow? I am not deaf! Or at least, I was not,” Wadjenes grumbled, massaging his assaulted ear as he bent over to retrieve the fallen scroll. Asenath was glad to see Semat’s increased volume achieved the intended result. Heqaib emerged from a nearby chamber.
“There you are, Heqaib. These virgins bring you a message from their queen.”
Heqaib approached them. “What is it? Is my lady all right?”
“The question of the hour!” Wadjenes interrupted. “Tell me, is she returned to normal activity?”
Asenath kept her tongue still and her eyes lowered, letting Semat answer. “Not yet, my lord.”
“Then I may as well save myself a trip to the north wing.”
“My lord?” Semat inquired, confused.
Raising the scroll, he said, “His Eminence asked that this be hand-delivered to her, and seen by no other eyes.”
Asenath jabbed Semat in the ribs.
“I will deliver it,” Semat said, reaching out her hand.
“I think not,” Wadjenes scoffed, whisking the scroll well out of reach.
“My lady gave express orders she would see and speak to no one but her handmaidens until further notice.”
“Then I shall wait.”
Asenath spoke, making her voice as high-pitched and nasal as possible. “Suppose the contents of the scroll require urgent attention? Surely you would not want my lady to miss a message from His Eminence, especially given the present circumstances.”
Stealing a glance at the men, she noticed Heqaib eyeing her curiously, even as Wadjenes’s eyes shifted doubtfully. “Well . . . no . . . but my orders—”
“She has a point, Wadjenes,” Heqaib chimed in. “My lady trusts Semat with her life. If I were in your sandals, I would hand Semat the scroll and consider it hand-delivered.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Wadjenes conceded. “See that she gets it without delay. If things turn awry, I shall deny this conversation. Now, if you will excuse me, there is a goblet of wine with my name on it. But you virgins are welcome to join me,” he hinted, strolling casually toward his chamber.
Heqaib stared at Asenath suspiciously but addressed Semat. “Why do I feel as though you are hiding something, Semat? Tell me the truth; is my lady well?”
“Yes, my lord. She asks that you take Tsillah to His Reverence’s villa, urgently, to deliver a private message to Na’eemah.”
“Tsillah? I have never known my lady to trust anyone but you with a private message.”
“She needs me to remain at her side, being that she is unwell.”
“Unwell? You just said she was well.” Heqaib started to head for the women’s quarters. “I want to hear the instruction directly from her.”
“Wait, she asked not to be disturbed,” Asenath said in her false voice.
He glared at Asenath, disguised as Tsillah. “Then tell me the message. Na’eemah is my mother, is she not?”
Asenath, keeping her eyes lowered, showed her unwillingness to comply by briskly shaking her head from side to side.
Heqaib stood directly in front of her, arms crossed. “Either you tell me the message, or take me to my lady,” he said firmly. “I will not set one foot outside this house until one or the other happens.”
Not wanting them to remain within earshot of Wadjenes, Asenath raised her head and looked him directly in the eyes.
Heqaib sucked in a breath. There was no mistaking those amber eyes. She lifted a finger to her veiled mouth, signaling silence, and then pointed toward the corridor. Maintaining her nasal, high pitch, she said, “Very well. I will tell you the message, but only in private.”
The three of them headed down the hallway leading to the exit closest to the stables. As soon as they were outside, Heqaib turned to Asenath. “By the life of Pharaoh, what are you doing?”
Asenath turned to Semat. “Return to Tsillah. Remember my instructions. By the favor of Ra, you will see me again soon.”
“Yes, my lady.” Holding out the scroll, she said, “Your missive.”
I could not care less what it says. Scowling, she took the scroll and sequestered it beneath her riding cloak.
Trembling like she might suffer a stroke at any moment, Semat bowed and went back inside.
Asenath turned to Heqaib. “Take me to Na’eemah.”
“Surely you jest,” he said, shocked.
“I have never been more serious.”
“My lady, you know I would die for you; but if I am to remove you secretly from your matrimonial home, I need to have an impervious reason to give your father.”
“Then I give you the assurance of my unhappiness. He is . . . I cannot . . . I cannot do this,” she said, brushing an arm over her sore forehead.
Noting her bruise, Heqaib’s hands curled into fists at his side. “Did he . . .” He swallowed. “Did he hurt you?”
He may have left a sour taste in her mouth, but Asenath could not bring herself to slander the vizier. “No, Heqaib. I fainted and apparently fell into the river. I thought everyone knew. Notwithstanding, this is neither the time nor the place. For now, know that he asks more than I am willing to give.” Asenath’s voice broke. “I have never missed my mother more than I do at this moment, but I am grateful yours still lives. She is the only one I can trust with the burden I now bear. Will you please take me to her?”
“Without further question.”
“And our fastest means?”
“Your father’s barge; but it will draw attention. A hard horse ride would be best. If you can stand the heat,” Heqaib said.
“If I could not stand the heat, I would not be starting a fire,” Asenath quipped.
Heqaib stifled a smile. “Duly noted. If we are to leave without being questioned, I must inform Wadjenes I am . . .”
“Escorting my maiden to deliver my private message.”
“Indeed. Since we cannot risk him seeing through your disguise, I suggest you wait here. Better still, head for the stables and I will meet you there.”
Asenath nodded. She secured her cloak about herself and kept her eyes lowered as she walked. Once within the stables, she happened upon a ruddy stable boy.
“Blessings of the dawn, lad.”
“Blessings of the dawn.”
“I would hazard a guess that a smart fellow like you knows which of these are the fastest steeds.”
Blushing, the boy pointed out two.
“I knew I could count on you,” Asenath said, winking at him. “Now never mind me, I am just waiting for my lord.”
Heqaib entered the barn moments later.
“Is all well, my lord?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I hear those two run like the wind,” she said, pointing out the horses the boy had indicated.
“Excellent,” Heqaib replied. “I will return momentarily.” He went off to find the keeper of the horses. A few moments later, he came back with a burly man who was the spitting, albeit older, image of the stable boy. The man untethered the requested steeds and handed them over. “See that you bring them back in the same condition.”
“Naturally. Thank you,” Heqaib said.
“Ready my—Tsillah?” he asked Asenath.
“Yes, my lord!” Asenath answered, thankful her veil hid her smile.
He gave her a leg up onto the first horse and mounted the second. They made their way out of the stables and out of the villa. But it was only thanks to Heqaib’s military background they made their way out of the north gate of the palace with no obstructions.
Once outside the bustling city, Heqaib explained they had a straight path over wide open fields.
Time to pick up the pace, Asenath thought. She took a drink from her water container. Then she looked at him. “Heqaib . . .”
“Yes?”
“Do try to keep up, will you?” Kicking her horse with both heels, Asenath took off. She rode like she was being pursued by all the spirits of the underworld. She was pleased that Heqaib matched her pace with equal fury. Hours later, he led them off the path into a beautiful little oasis of oak trees that lay next to a stream. He stopped and gestured toward it. Asenath led her mare to the stream and dismounted, letting it dunk its entire head into the water. She wished she could do the same. Drenched in perspiration, she was determined not to give in to weariness just yet. She noticed Heqaib had dismounted and was walking toward her. She raised her hand, palm forward. He stopped.
“May I have a moment?” she asked.
“Certainly.” He turned his back to her.
She unveiled herself, took off her riding cloak, and dipped her entire head into the water alongside her horse. It was refreshing. She would dip her whole body in if she dared. The water trickling down her curly tresses brought a welcome coolness. She savored it for a few moments and then squeezed her hair as dry as she could. She put her riding cape back on and was about to refasten her veil when a thought stopped her.
What have I got to lose? If ever there was a moment to dare this, it is now. Leaving her wet face unveiled, she walked up to Heqaib quietly and placed a hand on his shoulder.
He started speaking before he turned. “I thought you would ride us into the—” He stopped, mouth agape, when he saw her. For a second, it seemed like time had stopped. He stood transfixed, his eyes perusing her face. Then, as if catching himself in the act, he turned away. “What have you . . . what have I done?”
Asenath spoke softly. “Heqaib, look at me. Please.”
Heqaib turned around slowly. He looked as though he gazed at something supernatural.
“You are a man, and I need the truth—from a man. If you knew nothing about me, but saw me as you do now, would I please you?”
“Please me?” His brow furrowed slightly as he inclined his head.
Asenath felt heat rise to her face. “I mean . . . would you find my form . . . my face . . . comely?”
He raised both eyebrows. “How can that even be a question?”
Asenath looked away. “I do not know. I thought . . . but the vizier . . . he . . . I do not think . . .” Sighing, she looked at him. “He does not want me.”
Heqaib looked at her as though she had suddenly sprouted a second head. “Then he is a fool. A blind one at best, a mad one at worst, but a fool either way.”
Asenath gave a weak smile. “He interpreted dreams that confounded the wisest in the land; he is no fool, Heqaib. But tell me sincerely. How would you describe me to someone else?”
This time, it was Heqaib who blushed. “I do not possess a vocabulary rich enough to give a worthy description of what my eyes presently behold. You rightly said I am a man. And speaking as one, let this suffice; there is not a man alive who would not consider it a blessing from the gods to have the pleasure of gazing upon your face even for a moment, let alone a lifetime. Yours is a face beyond compare. Its lovely image is now engraved in my mind, and will remain so until the day I die.”
Asenath’s eyes watered. His words were a salve to her wounded heart.
Heqaib reached his hand toward her face. “Asenath . . .” Pausing just shy of touching it, he dropped his hand and curled it into a fist. “I do not know what that man has done, or not done, to make you doubt yourself. However, it is not your beauty you should question, it is his sanity.”
“Thank you, Heqaib. Your words mean more than you know.”
His eyes perused her face for a moment, his gaze lingering on her full, moist lips. Then he shut his eyes, turned around, and released a slow breath. “We should ride, my lady; but I need a moment.” He headed for the stream.
“Take all the time you need.”
Asenath hid her face once more, but she could not hide her smile. She had just broken a rule she had spent a third of her life upholding. Hopefully, this indiscretion would not earn her a punishment from Ra, but in this moment, her defiance felt well worth whatever consequences may lie ahead. She felt seen. And desired. She could not remember ever feeling this way. The look in Heqaib’s eyes said what his lips dared not. She traveled the rest of the hard road, feeling as though she was riding on the clouds.
Part II: Unveiled
Chapter 13
Soft may be its fur
Yet the tamest mongrel
Cornered, bares its fangs
***
