Sunrise on the Mediterranean (24 page)

He glanced at me. “The conquering of Ashqelon will be enough to teach your other cities that we are now masters of the land.”
He rubbed his thighs. “My men are tired, they are hungry for their wives and the cool of the hills. This should be enough
for honor on both sides.”

Could I kill him right now? Could I both do it and get away with it? “Swear you will not kill or rape the women,” I demanded,
my voice low. I knew the men, the few old and young men still alive, were a lost cause.

For the first time, he got offended. “We are holy men,
isha.
We do not rape. The seed of the tribes is not to be scattered about like that of idolaters! War in the land is a commission
of
el ha
Shaday, not for the pollution of the body.” He looked as though he might spit.

My breath was shallow. Should I agree to these terms? Or was there a better future for my, these, people? For the first time,
I looked over Yoav’s shoulder to Cheftu. His eyes were dark, his face immobile. Death was the alternative, Chloe. It doesn’t
look that bad in comparison.

Only in comparison—otherwise it was horrible!

Yoav rose. “Think on this,
haDerkato.
I will await your response.” He glanced at the sky. “You have until dusk.”

“How shall I contact you?”

“I will know your choice by your actions. If I see half of the remaining population file out of the gates, you in the lead,
then I will know. If I don’t, then I will raze Ashqelon to the ground. As you said, both Yaffo and Qisilee are ports, too.
We don’t need your city standing.”

He turned around and walked off.

The twins and Klingon hurried to Yoav’s side, with N’tan trailing behind. Once again the five walked down the beach.

I collapsed back on my chair, trembling all over. What had I done? What could I do? Why was this my job? Why had Takala cursed
me like this? Why couldn’t I just walk away?

Tamera appeared, with a cold yogurt-and-cucumber drink in her hand. It eased my stomach as I pondered my options. “How many
boats are in the harbor? Enough to sail us all to Qisilee?”

“
Lo
, Sea-Mistress. They are still in dry dock for winter repairs.” She adjusted her own fish cloak. “There is no sailing in this
season.”

So much for escaping. I slammed the rest of my beverage.

“What transpired?” she asked. “The
serenim
of the remaining cities in
ha Hamishah
beg to know.”

Would they really do as I suggested? I was a goddess to them, but surely they didn’t believe I was divine? The idea seemed
preposterous. Then again, the whole tightrope incident was pretty unbelievable, and they had chosen me through that. I took
a deep breath and destroyed her world with my words.

“The days of, uh, our supremacy are over,” I said. “By dusk, half of us must be ready to become slaves. Half of the fields
will burn. Wadia can return from Ashdod and rule, but he will be under the eye of the highlanders, for they are moving to
the fields between here and Lakshish.”

She sat down, cross-legged. “What of you?”

My hands were shaking. “I go to become a slave.” Tamera’s eyes filled with tears, so I dismissed her. When Tamera left, Cheftu’s
hands touched my shoulders. “We will slave together,” he said.

“I can’t ask that of you,” I said. “You should stay here, teach Wadia how to rule.”

“
Lo.
This time is not mine. This boy Wadia loves you, not your slave. My vow was to be with you. Also, Israelite slavery only
lasts seven years.”

“That’s supposed to encourage me?” I burst out. “We have less than a year here,” he said. “The portal will open, then we will
be freed.”

“I don’t know where a portal is. I came through water.” His hands tensed on my shoulders, then relaxed. “I will be with you.
I thank God for that.”

“The family that slaves together stays together?”

Only silence met my joke. I didn’t blame him; it wasn’t funny.

At dusk we opened the gates of the city. The sound of weeping and wailing was a constant whip to my conscience. Was there
something else I could have done? Why had this been my job? God forgive me, but I didn’t know what I was doing!

Like condemned ducks they followed me, a ragtag collection of mostly older women and a few teenage girls. The city had held
tightly to the few boys who were left, who would be marriageable in a matter of months, and to the women whose wombs were
fertile.

Ashqelon must keep her means of repopulating.

Cheftu walked beside me, proud and beautiful despite the chains in his ears. The same chains that I would have soon. Of all
of this, that was the scariest thought—for it seemed the most real. I’d seen the scars on his ears. It was a beacon that didn’t
fade away. I straightened my shoulders and walked on.

We had thrown the Urim and Thummim, but the answer had been vague, frustrating. “Service is to serve.” What the hell did that
mean? When that was the same answer, time and again, we gave up. Cheftu excused himself to rehide the stones—and I finally
understood where his secret hiding place was, that could pass through being naked. His cleverness was disgusting at times.

Outside the city a line of highlanders stretched from horizon to horizon. They were standing at attention like the Rockettes,
immobile, the wind tugging their skirts, the setting sun blinding on their shields and dome-shaped helmets.

Impressive.

Yoav stood at the front, resplendent in red and green. I smelled my fear over the cinnamon and mint I’d bathed in before leaving
the city. If I represented Ashqelon, Tamera said as she dressed me up, the highlanders would recall forever the beauty and
majesty of the city.

My gown was finely woven, dyed, and embroidered. Gold hung from my neck, my shoulders, and my ears. Tamera had tied a sash
of woven gold around my head, the colors of gold, blue, and green picked up in the striped sash around my waist. Attached
to the back of my dress was an elaborate fish cloak, this one covered with fabric “scales” and “fins.” My face, my shoulders
and clavicle, all were adorned with gold dust in patterns of magic protection.

Was this how Cleopatra felt, getting decked out before she did herself in?

Shoulders back, my kohled gaze on Yoav, I walked to within four feet of him.

“You seek the subjugation of the Ashqeloni,” I said. “By your very words, you have half her fields, half her people, and their
goddess,
haDerkato.
Swear, Yoav ben Zerui’a, in holy
b’rith
, that you will treat these captives with justice and honor, that the maids will remain pure, that the mothers will not be
beaten. Swear that Ashdod will remain untouched, that
seren
Wadia will live, that Qisilee, Yaffo, and Lakshish will not suffer the sword or the torch. Swear to these things, and the
ownership of these Pelesti is yours.”

“I will not swear by the name of my god,” he said. “Then swear by his footstool, your totem.”

He glared at me, ground his teeth for a moment, then shouted, “By the Seat of Mercy, I swear to these statements! By the footstool
of
el ha
Shaday, these professions are true!”

Cheftu’s hand clenched in my sash. Yoav looked at me, smug. “Subjugate yourself, goddess.”

As gracefully as I could, I got to my knees. One highlander moved to stand behind me, another two stood at my sides. Yoav
accepted a mallet and an awl from N’tan. I began to tremble violently; I prayed Cheftu would watch quietly.

We had discussed this. It wouldn’t be much worse than getting my ears pierced, I hoped.

One man pulled my hair back, then another removed my earrings, handing them to me. The two men at my sides pressed my shoulders
down, holding me still, firm against the soil.

Yoav, strangely enough, didn’t look as though he were enjoying this. I blinked furiously against tears. I was grateful I’d
emptied my bladder. He handed me a leaf. “Artemisia,” he said. I accepted it, chewing furiously. I felt a block of wood press
against the curve of cartilage in my ear above my lobe.

The prick of the awl. “Breathe from your belly,” he said, then pounded the awl through my ear.

The pain was sudden and consuming. While I was slumped, dizzy and sick from the first piercing, he did my other ear. The block
holder and Yoav stepped away, shouting up to the Pelesti. “As I have enslaved your goddess, so are the people of the sea enslaved.
You will serve the tribes, even as you are allowed life!”

The two men helped me up, turning me toward the city. I felt the tug on raw skin as the chain was linked through. It pulled;
I didn’t have words for how it felt. I was light-headed and feared I was going to be sick. As I looked up, feeling the chain
in my hair, the weight of it tugging at my tender ears, the people before me, the remaining Pelesti, knelt. I couldn’t focus
on any one face; I couldn’t see that far.

From the walls of the city I heard, “Bless
haDerkato
, for she has given herself for Ashqelon.” The highlanders set off toward the city, ready to kill the remaining, the very
few remaining, men. The cries of pride turned into shrieks of fear. The chain moving through my ear suddenly seemed nothing.
Perhaps it had saved a few lives?

Cheftu picked me up gently, easing the pull of the metal. He slipped something into my mouth, another leaf. “Chew and sleep,”
he said. “It will ease you.”

My last thoughts were that the fear-struck screams had turned into wails of agonizing loss. Wails that followed me into blackness.

“T
HAT MEANS
I
WILL
leave your side?” RaEm asked, focusing on Akhenaten through the blackness of the night.

His hand found her thigh, smoothing over her skin, soothing her
ka.
“It is a short visit, just to establish that the reign of the Aten will continue. Besides, you need a bridal voyage.”

RaEm sighed, adjusting the headrest beneath her head, letting the warm breeze cool her body. “Your daughter is a joy, but
a whole month of her may drive me mad.”

He chuckled, kissing where his hands had been. “She loves you desperately, Smenkhare; she would do anything to please you.”

This RaEm knew. Ever since she had wedded the girl, she had had almost no peace. Meryaten was desperately in love with her,
always seeking to touch her, to kiss her, to be with her. RaEm sat up, bracing her head on her elbow. “I need to get her with
child.”

“
Aii
, well, that will take more magic than any priest I know has,” Akhenaten said. “Besides, she will not be plowed with any save
a royal tool.” His voice brooked no disagreement.

But she will drive me insane until she is pregnant, RaEm thought. Between Tiye, who was suspicious but going blind, and Meryaten,
who was blind but sweet, RaEm was paying too dearly for too little power. “Your mother—”

“Yours too—”

“Aye, well, she wishes to build a temple in Waset.” Akhenaten rose from the couch. “I will not speak of this,” he said firmly.
“Though I owe her respect for bearing me, still she has the heart of a … a nonbeliever.”

“The temple matters nothing to me,” RaEm said, following him to stand on the balcony, beneath the moon. “Meryaten I will keep
happy. You, My Majesty, you are all I want.” She pressed her lips together to keep from begging more. “Please don’t send me
away, away from your fire.” She kissed his shoulder. “I will be so cold.”

Akhenaten was on her, in her, immediately. “You want heat, you want to burn?”

“Aye, My … Majesty,” she gasped out. “You want my fire to flow through you?”

“Aye! Aye!”

He was violent, tearing her open to get deeper inside. “You will melt for no one but me. However you please my daughter, only
I will feel your heat, Smenkhare. Never again will another person hear you gasp, you moan. Those belong to me.” He slapped
her hard, his hand around her throat. “I am your deity. You will have no other. I am the Aten.”

He pulled away, raining liquid fire on her, salt from his depths that mingled with the tears torn from her deepest heart.
Pharaoh walked away, pausing at the door. “Spend a month with your bride. Return to Akhetaten as my coregent.”