Flail of the Pharoah (18 page)

‘I am. Of course you have not yet experienced it, but I remember last year. Days on end of feasting and entertainment, and the chance to leave this fusty old palace and get out into the streets and onto the river. There might even be a chance of some dalliance with a fine young Egyptian if you are discreet about it. You are going to love it!’

But still feeling the excruciating discomfort of the nipple clamps, and knowing she must endure it again, Charmian doubted that very much.

The night before the festival began Mira was in her room awaiting the high priest who always led her to the Pharaoh’s bedchamber, and then to the temple for the ritual blessing. She had bathed and shaved her body hair, as was required, and all around her was a cloud of exquisite perfume, the special blend that only queens of Egypt were allowed to wear at the time of Opet.

As Tut-Tut entered her room his nostrils flared and he made his obeisance, breathing deeply of her aura.

‘Your most sacred majesty,’ he said. ‘Before I lead you to the king’s chamber for the ritual, there is something I have to impart.’

‘Really?’ Mira was surprised by his conspiratorial manner. ‘Then come over here, out of earshot of the guard.’

She took him behind the screen and bade him sit on a footstool while she perched on the bed. He obviously found it uncomfortable to squat with his great bulk on the small stool, but Mira found it amusing to torment the man. She disliked him, but he was useful to her so she tolerated him, but that did not prevent her from playing such tricks on him from time to time.

He wheezed his words, the fat thighs stuck up almost to his flabby jowls under his voluminous tunic. ‘It is about the pale girl, my queen, the one named Charmian.’

At once Mira was keenly interested in whatever he might have to tell her.

‘It was Kiya, the Nubian girl, who told me. She heard Charmian having a nightmare and when she awoke Kiya asked her to describe her dream. Apparently Lord Anubis came to her. She recognised his form, but would not say what message he brought or what transpired in her dream. Kiya had the impression she wished she had not said his name at all, but once it was out of her mouth she grew more circumspect, and the girl could get no more from her.’

‘Anubis!’ Mira breathed, wonderingly. It seemed too much of a coincidence that the wretched girl had experienced a night visitation just a few days after her own portentous dream. What did it signify?

‘You are wondering what this might mean,’ Tut-Tut said, with his uncanny ability to read her mind. ‘Without further details it is hard to tell. If we were not on the eve of Opet I should advise summoning the girl and making her confess her dream. But there is no time, so we can only speculate. Generally, the advent of Lord Anubis is portentous of some inner change, some disturbance of the soul that will give rise to deeper self-knowledge. The subject becomes more aware of their true nature as the god penetrates the outer layers of the personality with his all-seeing eye.’

‘Yes,’ Mira murmured, thinking of her own sense of revelation and her subsequent prayer to Isis. Had she been foolish to take Charmian along with her on that occasion? Was that what provoked this extraordinary coincidence of the shared dream? She recalled how Anubis had visited stripe after stripe upon her subjugated flesh, satisfying her urge for complete submission. Had he done the same to Charmian?

‘As I said, however, without further details…’ the high priest shrugged, but his eyes gleamed with significance in the dim light and suddenly Mira realised he was hinting at something, something so extreme he dared not speak it aloud.

But she dared. ‘The girl must be made to speak,’ she said flatly. ‘How can this be accomplished?’

‘Leave it to me,’ he replied.

She smiled. ‘Well Tut-Tut, if you are ready you may lead me to my husband’s bedchamber. On this night, of all nights in the year, the queen of Egypt reigns supreme alongside the Pharaoh.’

Seti welcomed his wife with open arms, and after a blessing from the high priest they set out for the temple. This was a most solemn ritual and they had to enter alone, approaching the statue of Amon in the inner sanctum in order to perform their act of union before the god.

A mattress, consisting of a sack of finest linen filled with sweet-scented rushes, had been laid out for them on the slab of stone that was one of the god’s resting places. There were also two pillows made of gold cloth for them to rest their heads. Slowly, with a gracious smile, Seti disrobed first his wife and then himself until they stood naked before the towering statue of Amon, naked save for the amulets that protected them from evil spirits, the crowns that proclaimed them King and Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt, and other badges of their rank.

Already the Pharaoh’s stiff wand of flesh was rising between them as they stood before the god, and Mira felt a surge of gratification. Only one woman in the land was allowed to have congress with the Pharaoh in the holy of holies, the very heart of the temple, and that was she, Queen Mira. Her thoughts and feelings about Charmian were determinedly put aside as she brought her mind fully to bear upon the ritual she was about to perform.

King Seti spoke the words of dedication in his rich voice and then led her to the makeshift bed. She lay down, her body yearning for his touch and the deep thrusting that would provoke such keen sensations inside her. She felt her womb somersault at the thought of having the royal phallus inside her, knocking gently upon the door that had opened three times to produce fine royal offspring and at least one heir to the throne of Egypt. Tonight she shared the threefold pride of the goddess Isis: she was holy priestess, royal wife and divine mother.

The kisses Seti bestowed upon each of her breasts in turn were respectful, as were the gentle strokes he gave them. She looked up into his dark eyes and saw fondness there, but not lust or passion. A deep sadness filled her heart when she thought of how things used to be between them, yet the sacred ritual must be performed or the annual festival could not begin. The ceremony of the Opening of Opet must be auspicious, to indicate that the gods were looking favourably upon their people.

Mira gently caressed his penis and the sturdy organ grew even stronger in her hand, warm and throbbing. She parted her thighs by way of invitation and the king knelt between them, his member rearing impatiently at the door to her womb. With a sigh the queen felt the knob of flesh nudging between her labia and she yielded to him, hearing the prayer Seti made as he entered her own inner sanctum and making her time-honoured responses.

In the darkness, in the silence, with the lingering scent of lotus in their nostrils the royal couple moved slowly and steadily towards the climax of the primeval act, as the impassive eyes of the god looked down upon them. It did not take long for the Pharaoh to reach his consummation with a little cry. The queen uttered an ambiguous sigh that might have been one of contentment or disappointment. Only the god knew the secrets of her heart.

Slowly the king pulled out of her, allowing his fertile juices to seep into the straw-filled mattress that would later be burnt as a sacrifice to Amun. He rose to his feet and bowed to the god, then turned to hold his wife’s hand and draw her to his side. She also made obeisance to the holy statue that would soon be brought forth from the temple, decked in its festive finery, to begin the long perambulation of the kingdom and the voyage down the Nile.

At the thought of that procession, however, her heart grew heavy. No longer would she reign supreme as Queen of Egypt. There was a new attraction for the crowds, a young upstart to rival her, and she must endure the humiliation of having the beautiful pale-skinned concubine riding behind her on an equally grand float. The only small consolation was the thought that the girl would be in constant pain throughout the proceedings.

Charmian also viewed the prospect of the festival and the grand procession with trepidation, now she knew the nature of the adornments she must wear. As she was summoned to the queen’s chamber to prepare for the ordeal Iras regarded with her pity, but the maidservant could do nothing but obey when the order came to fetch the costumes and jewels from the palace treasury. The Pharaoh himself had ordered Iras to dress both her majesty the queen and Charmian, the Queen of the Festival.

Mira informed her that the sacred rite had been performed and the statues of the gods were being dressed, decorated and garlanded. The mob who thronged the streets would not see them, for they would be veiled as they were borne on litters down the processional way, but the gods themselves would know how well they were honoured and would look kindly upon the land and people of Egypt.

Suddenly a messenger appeared, saying the Pharaoh wished to see his royal wife, and Mira left after giving instructions to Iras to get Charmian ready for the procession. As soon as she had gone Iras approached with some trinkets in her hand, and opened them up for her to see.

‘Look, your nipple brooches,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I have put little pads upon them so they do not chafe you so cruelly.’

When she saw the tiny linen pads fixed to the clips, Charmian was amazed at her kindness. The girl was obviously terrified of being overheard, however, and continued in a whisper, ‘I have something else to help you.’ She opened her fist to reveal a tiny phial of dark green liquid. ‘Take a drop of this on your tongue if the torment gets unbearable. It will dull the pain instantly.’

Charmian took the physic gratefully, aware that Iras must be risking a terrible punishment from the queen if found out. When the girl fastened the padded clamps to her bare nipples the pressure was still uncomfortable, but nowhere near as bad as before.

‘Oh, thank you, Iras,’ she whispered.

The girl looked nervous as she continued to dress Charmian in a diaphanous split skirt and golden sandals. She brushed her blonde hair and entwined gold thread amongst the strands, which would shine in the sun, then affixed a few exquisite artificial blooms before attaching a small crown in the form of woven papyrus reeds, gilded and studded with jewels.

‘You are so beautiful,’ she murmured, fetching a hand mirror for Charmian to admire her own image.

At that moment the queen returned. ‘Yes, you are indeed beautiful,’ she commented indifferently, examining her rival closely. She briefly caressed her breasts and flipped the golden brooches in playful cruelty, as a cat torments a bird. For one terrible moment Charmian feared she might unclip and inspect them, but she let them be.

‘You may proceed to the temple precinct,’ Mira told her dismissively. ‘Iras, you shall now dress me.’

In the outer chamber of the temple the procession was already assembling with Tut-Tut in charge of the proceedings. He seized her arm and pulled her towards the front of the milling throng. ‘You are to ride on the float behind the royal couple, flanked by Nubian slaves,’ he informed her. ‘Behind your float will walk the other women of the harem.’

He waved his hand, and as Charmian glanced in their direction she gasped in horror. Every other female she could see was veiled, and she was the only one of the Pharaoh’s concubines to be recognisable to all. ‘Am I not to be veiled as well?’ she asked the high priest.

He gave a curt laugh. ‘Of course not. You are supposed to be the Queen of Opet and his majesty wishes your beauty to shine forth upon the crowd. I hope you realise how fortunate you are.’

But Charmian felt anything but fortunate, and far from honoured. The steady pressure from the clamps was beginning to make her nipples ache, and now she knew her face would be unveiled she felt horribly exposed and vulnerable.

There could be no backing out though, and when the Pharaoh and his queen appeared she made her obeisance along with the rest, murmuring the traditional form of greeting for the beginning of Opet, which Tut-Tut had rehearsed with them. King Seti looked very handsome and proud, his queen a picture of regal dignity as they took their place at the head of the procession. Charmian was attended by four ebony-skinned Nubians walking several paces behind, their sturdy black arms encircled with gold.

The trumpets sounded as they left the temple, and kept up a continual fanfare as they progressed along the corridor towards the palace courtyard, where the litters and their bearers were awaiting them. Gradually the pageant assembled, overwhelming the senses with music, colour and incense. Charmian watched as the royal couple were borne aloft behind the statue of the god in his barque of gold, covered by a tent of golden cloth.

Then it was her turn. Carefully she stepped onto the platform, which reminded her poignantly of the sleds in her native land. There was a flimsy stool for her to sit on and she carefully arrayed herself before the four strong men hefted her aloft. The ground seemed far below her as they began to move behind the royal litter, swaying unsteadily at first but soon getting into a smoother rhythm as they walked out of the enclosed world of the palace and into the streets.

It was so long since Charmian had been beyond the palace walls that she blinked in the fierce brightness of the sun, whose rays were always tempered and shielded inside the cool corridors and chambers of the royal residence and temple. The roar that came from the waiting crowds when their rulers appeared took her by surprise, echoing around the sun baked walls of the palace and outbuildings with a deafening intensity.

Soon Charmian was looking down upon scores of upturned faces lining the route to the Nile. Behind her the lesser women of the harem progressed on foot, heavily veiled, and despite the dull ache making itself felt from her pinched nipples, and the scorching heat of the sun, Charmian started to enjoy the feeling of being raised – both literally and metaphorically – above the common folk.