Flail of the Pharoah (12 page)

Distracted by her thoughts, Charmian did not hear the soft rustling of foliage or see the swarthy figure of the prince until he was upon her.

‘Oh, Prince Neshi!’ she exclaimed, leaping up from the seat and letting the rose in her lap fall to the ground.

He picked it up and, with an ironic smile, presented it to her. ‘A plucked rose, dear Charmian. Is that what you are now? Never mind. A rose that is plucked smells just as sweet – if not sweeter.’

To her dismay he lifted her free hand to his lips. What if someone should see his indiscretion? Her eyes darted around the garden but there was no one there, and even if there had been the thick tamarisk hedge that edged the path in front of the seat would have blocked their view.

‘May I join you?’ he asked, but knowing his wish was her command he sat down beside her straight away. ‘It is a beautiful morning, and you look more beautiful than ever, my dear. Perhaps because you shared my father’s bed last night?’

Charmian was mortified. She dared not be impolite to the prince, but he had placed her in an awkward position by referring to last night so boldly. So she said nothing.

His finger toyed with her hair, pulling it out of its gold and ebony comb until several tendrils framed her face. ‘That’s better.’ He smiled. ‘Now you look as though you have just come from the royal bedchamber, instead of being all tucked in and folded up, like a prissy temple virgin. I prefer you this way.’

‘Please…’ she began, but what could she say to the Crown Prince of Egypt? The situation both baffled and alarmed her. She found herself praying for someone to pass by, which would oblige the prince to control himself.

‘Tell me, what was it like?’ he went on.

Charmian feigned ignorance. ‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘You know exactly what I mean. What was it like in the Pharaoh’s bed? Was he a good fuck or did the old man have trouble getting it up?’

Such crude talk horrified her and she felt herself blushing, unable to utter a word. He put his arm around her, compounding her embarrassment, and whispered conspiratorially, ‘Look, you can tell me; I’m no gossip, I won’t tell. If you tell me all about it I’ll… I’ll give you a kitten! You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A little ball of fluff to cuddle and stroke instead of a man’s ugly prick! Come on, tell me what happened, stage by stage. Did he kiss you? Did he fondle your breasts… like this?’

Charmian froze as his hand seized her breast and squeezed it, his lips fastening on her neck. He was panting and hot, but she guessed that had nothing to do with the temperature and she longed to get away. Could she struggle free and make a dash for it?

Neshi seemed to read her thoughts. Seizing her wrist he looked fiercely into her eyes. ‘I can be your friend or your enemy, Charmian, the choice is yours. Remember what happened to Kiya, and make the right choice.’

Dumbly she nodded and he released her wrist, but he cuddled up to her and she could smell the beer on his breath. ‘Now then, a full account of last night, if you please.’

‘Please, I… I cannot,’ she insisted. ‘Your father drugged me – I believe to spare me any pain – and I can recall nothing of what happened.’

A disgusted look came over his face, and he rasped, ‘You’re lying.’

‘No, if you don’t believe me ask your mother. It was she who told me, for I slept through it all.’

Neshi scanned her face with a look of scorn, but it was not directed at her. ‘My father was not man enough to take you when you were in full command of your senses? What a feeble man! He may be King of Egypt but he’s a poor beggar in the bedroom. I wouldn’t have done such a thing. If you’d been my concubine you would remember every single thing now, every kiss, every caress, every strong thrust of my magnificent tool into your tight quim. You know what a fine tool I possess, don’t you – because you’ve both seen and felt it.’

To her horror he began to unfasten his kilt. All that lewd talk had brought his erection to full strength, and once freed the organ reared its eager head like a cobra, ready to strike. ‘Feel it now,’ he goaded, and as she backed away he took her hand and forced her to touch the stiff column. ‘I suppose he really did take your cherry,’ Neshi mused, his eyes dark with desire. ‘Maybe I’d better check first. I don’t want to be accused of spoiling another man’s goods.’

‘What do you mean?’ she cried, knowing full well his words could not have any shred of decency in them, but she was playing for time.

‘I shall call upon my inspector.’ He waggled a straightened finger at her. ‘Say hello to Inspector Feelgood, my girl. He is an expert at divining whether a barrel has been breached or not. Open your legs and show him the way.’

‘No.’ Charmian managed to stand, wriggled from his grasp, and began to run, but Neshi was too quick for her. He brought her down by diving at her legs and the pair of them rolled into a thick tamarisk bush.

‘This is much better!’ he roared, giggling, and pinning her down with one arm he lifted her skirt with the other and soon her pudenda was exposed. ‘Now inspector, do your work!’

Charmian felt the thick finger grope between her labia, but with the strong young man on top of her she could not move away. She tried to close her thighs but he forced them apart with his own, leaving her exposed.

The intruding finger moved into the vestibule of her sex and she gave an involuntary squeal. There was the sound of running footsteps on the gravel path, but whereas Charmian had longed for someone to appear mere minutes before she now had mixed feelings. What if they thought she had consented to this indignity?

‘Help!’ she called, struggling. ‘Please, someone help me!’

Two faces peered between the bushes and Charmian gasped in horror as she recognised them – the Pharaoh and his wife!

‘Neshi!’ thundered his father. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’

The boy, who had been so caught up in his lustful reverie that he was almost oblivious to their presence, jumped like a startled rabbit. ‘Oh father, mother, I—’

‘Get up, both of you!’ snapped Mira. She threw a baleful look at Charmian, who felt obliged to defend herself.

‘Please, your majesties, I only came into the garden for some peace and quiet, to be by myself.’

‘The cow is lying!’ snarled Neshi. ‘She was lying in wait, to ensnare me! She pulled me into these bushes and showed me her naked pussy. Well, what was a red-blooded male like me to do?’

‘I heard the girl screaming for help,’ King Seti said sternly.

‘Only after she realised she was going to get caught. She’s a sly one, father, and no mistake. Obviously after last night she can’t get enough of it. You must have really given her a good time.’

‘Silence!’ The Pharaoh’s fury was almost palpable. ‘No son of mine shall address me in that obscene fashion. Come into the palace, the pair of you, and we shall deal with this matter in private. You are very fortunate it was your mother and I who chanced by, and not some courtier or slave.’

Charmian felt a sick dread as she smoothed down her dress and followed the royal party back into the palace. She hoped the queen would defend her, but feared the word of her son would prevail against hers. What case could she plead, after being caught in such a compromising position? What would her punishment be? Visions of the hapless Kiya now swam before her eyes, and she knew exactly what must have happened to her. Neshi would have made advances and been rebuffed, then wreaked his vengeance. Oh, why couldn’t his father and mother see through his wiles?

The party reassembled in a small antechamber to the temple, where they would not be overheard. The king and queen sat on the only two chairs and commanded Charmian and Neshi to kneel before them. Charmian was already trembling.

‘Since my wife and I were the only witnesses to your disgraceful behaviour, there is little point in trying to ascertain guilt,’ Seti began. ‘I know you will both blame the other, so you shall be punished equally. I am very disappointed in you both, and so is the queen.’

‘Father…’ Neshi began, but was silenced by a fierce look.

‘Your punishment, my son, will be solitary confinement for ten days and a diet of bread and water. After that you will be closely supervised at all times and you will not be allowed to enter the harem or the gardens again, or have dealings with any woman other than your mother. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, father,’ Neshi said, crestfallen.

‘It is time you took your duties as crown prince seriously,’ Seti continued sternly. ‘After your confinement a programme of daily strenuous exercise and training in royal duties will commence. Mira, take your son to the guardhouse and see that my orders are carried out.’

Once they had left Charmian raised fearful eyes to the Pharaoh, but found no glimmer of mercy there. ‘As for you, young lady, you may not be permitted to defile the royal bed in your present state of sin. So I give you two choices. You may either accept banishment to the desert lands, where you will eke out a miserable existence. Or you may submit to ten lashes for the purposes of purgation. After that it will be for me to decide whether you may be rehabilitated as my concubine, or sent to join the rejected ones in my harem. Think on these options carefully, Charmian, for your future life depends on the decision you make now.’

A dilemma like that concentrates the mind wonderfully. Charmian realised that if she chose the first course she would obtain a degree of freedom. What if she somehow managed to find her way back through Egypt to the port and then on to her own country? For a few seconds the thought lifted her spirits. But then she realised how hazardous such a journey would be, and how unlikely it was that she would be able to achieve it unescorted, and with no money or resources. Besides, even if by some miracle she did manage to return home, what would she find there? The most likely prospect was a land laid waste by vandals, and all her friends and relatives slain, or sold into slavery.

Refusing to dwell on such a dismal thought, she considered remaining in the palace. There, whatever became of her, at least she was sure of a square meal, clean clothes and a soft bed. The thought of suffering ten lashes was terrifying, but the ordeal would soon be over and her wounds would heal. If she were then to become one of the rejected ones, she must accept her fate. It was preferable to dying in the desert of heatstroke, hunger and thirst.

‘I shall take the ten lashes, sire,’ she murmured, her voice breaking with terror.

At that moment the queen returned, signalling with a nod to the Pharaoh that his will had been carried out as regards their son. She stood in the shadows like a figure of carved stone, her face impassive and her body immobile.

‘An offence against the royal house of Egypt is a religious one, and the punishment must be executed by the high priest,’ the Pharaoh disclosed to the cowering girl. ‘Mira, fetch Tut-Tut.’

The queen bowed and went to the temple forecourt, and in less than a minute she was back, accompanied by the waddling priest. Charmian inwardly shuddered at the sight of him, with the sweat gleaming on his bald head and a lustful hunger in his eye.

Tut-Tut was holding a length of rope, with which he bound her wrists in a summary fashion, so that the fibrous cord dug into her delicate flesh, making her wince. A grim procession followed, with the king leading the way into the dark recesses of the temple. High priest and victim followed, the queen bringing up the rear.

They came to a large marble slab in front of an altar dedicated to Maat, the goddess of justice. The Pharaoh wore an expression as implacable as a funerary mask as he uttered the words, ‘Strip the miscreant and bind her to the whipping table.’

Charmian steeled herself against the indignity as the priest cut her shoulder straps and loosened her girdle, so that the fine white linen pooled at her feet. Naked, she was led towards the stone block and saw there were hooks along the sides through which ropes might be passed. Her wrists were untied and she was forced to lie facedown. After a brief interval busy hands fastened thick ropes across her shoulders and calves, pinioning her to the slab but leaving her back, buttocks and thighs exposed.

From somewhere came the heavy scent of incense, not the usual fragrant sort but something pungent and faintly noxious that disturbed Charmian’s senses and addled her mind. She was soon in an otherworldly state, a sacrificial victim, beyond hope and fear, dwelling in some surreal twilight zone her soul had never entered before.

Into this subliminal world the Pharaoh’s voice faintly penetrated, the phrases falling upon her ears like an intermittent breeze. ‘… Gross indecency… blasphemy to the royal house of Egypt… against the decree of the gods… expiation… ten lashes of the whip…’

Charmian heard it as if in a dream, and with her mind dulled and intoxicated she was unprepared for the first cruel blow as it fell upon her defenceless buttocks, drawing out pain such as she had never felt before. She uttered a stifled scream; at least, that was how it seemed to her ears although it could have been a piercing siren to those around her. For a moment there was a blessed diminution of the pain into numbness and shock, but then came a second lash, more cutting than the first, and her body writhed in torment.

Along with the torment came mental anguish, since she knew she was innocent of the charge brought against her. She had not encouraged the prince; on the contrary, she had fought to preserve her virtue. Was there no justice in this land? She dreaded the next blow, and yet in a way she welcomed it because it would be one stroke nearer sweet relief from her agony.