In the Court of Kemet: Ancient Egyptian Romances, #1

LA VENTA WEST, 2014

www.laventawestpublishers.blogspot.ca

Copyright © 2014 by Danielle S. LeBlanc

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in Canada by La Venta West, Inc. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Attributions for cover art

This cover is a compilation of public domain images, purchased images, and modifications of the following:

The Goddess Neith - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Neith_mirror.svg by user FDRMRZUSA

Floral frame - Floral Frame (no attribution required) use GDJ on Pixabay

Eye of Ra – image purchased from DollarPhotoClub by JanStopka

Print ISBN 978-0-9920802-4-2

eBook ISBN 978-0-9920802-5-9

Acknowledgements

My critique group is invaluable. 10+ years and I still see them more than most other people in my life. We’ve been together since before this book was conceived of, and through every book since. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the Mad Writers.

And most of all, thank you to my readers (and my special mailing list crew) for your feedback and enthusiasm!

Subscribe to my mailing list to get a FREE book, and members only exclusives, including advance notice of pre-orders and special tidbits

A note on the second edition

It's been eight years since I wrote In the Court of Kemet , my first novel. At the time, I had no long-term plan, and no idea that one book would launch an ever-growing series, with characters and stories branching off in all directions.

Furthermore, my writing has evolved over the years. Now, in 2022, I want the introductory book in the Ancient Egyptian Romances series to better reflect the rest of the series. As such, I've significantly altered the first two chapters, tweaked a couple of characters, and edited the rest.    

Thank you to all my readers for your comments, reviews, and messages. You helped make this re-write happen. You inspire me to continue writing, improving, and expanding the series.

I hope you enjoy this re-write as much as I enjoyed re-visiting this story.

Quick Reference for Ancient Egyptian Words

Bakh: Servants

Bakht: Female servants

Hem-etj: Your majesty (female)

Hem-ek: Your majesty (male)

Hnr: Musicians and dancers

Iteru: The Nile River

Kemet: Egypt

Sekhrey: Captain

Sar: Prince

Mewet: Mother/aunt/close female relation like a mother figure

Nebet-i: My lady

Sephat: City

Shenti: Kilt-like wrap skirt worn by men and women, belted at waist

Wa’ew: Soldier

Note: The term pharaoh, referring to the king of Egypt, was not in use during the First Dynasty, when the novel is set. However, it is used here for stylistic reasons and because it is a familiar term to most.

Chapter 1 – The Court of Thinis

Egypt (Kemet), 2975 B.C.E.

It all started with the elephants.

Five grey pachyderms trumpeted on cue from the far side of the palace courtyard, their chorus echoing off the thick mud-brick walls.  

Queen Merneith, Beloved of Neith, God's Wife, Pharaoh's Daughter, Pharaoh's Wife, Mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt, a courtier announced into the resulting silence.

Hundreds of people, clad in white linen and draped in gold and precious stones, turned to the palace entrance. There, Merneith sat atop a throne carried on the shoulders of four servants dressed in shenti – white wrap skirts – and gold collars.

A cheer went up from the crowd of nobles.  

Merneith fixed a serene smile on her face and gazed into the distance, as she'd been taught since childhood. Nothing should disturb the divine aura bestowed upon her by the gods. No matter that a sense of unease had been brewing within her for days now, stronger tonight than ever before. Something of import was going to happen soon.

Probably not something good, either.

The servants stepped in time along the hard-packed earth, both for effect and to avoid jostling Merneith. The crowd parted to allow her passage to the raised platform at the centre of the courtyard. There, the exiled prince of Sumer awaited her arrival.

Merneith's palms grew damp with apprehension, and she resisted the urge to run them over her linen robe. She'd never felt skilled at the subtle negotiations and manipulations involved in speaking with dignitaries. But neither her aunt nor her cousin – gossips of the first order – had been able to discern just what her brother and co-ruler, Pharoah Wadj, intended to accomplish on his journey north. If there was anyone left in Thinis who did know, it would be Prince Atab.

As the servants of the palace – the bakh – neared the platform, Merneith took in the court and nobles. The sun set behind the date palms, and the desert mountains beyond. Dozens of torches flickered about the courtyard. Their flames cast a glow on the etched columns, causing the images of the gods inscribed there to shift and dance with shadows.

Decorated Kemeti women craned their necks for a glimpse of Merneith. Most wore elaborate, braided wigs and thick gold necklaces, bracelets, and hair ornaments. Some sported simple white linen shift dresses belted loosely at the waist, like Merneith's. Others had long rectangles of fabric wrapped beneath their breasts or draped over one shoulder, leaving only one breast exposed.

The men were dressed and ornamented similarly to the women. Some had shaved heads draped with gold chains, while others wore long braids wrapped up on the side or back of an otherwise shaved head. Large hoops dangled from their ears, and beaded collars rested on their naked chests. Each piece of jewellery served as a marker of the wearer's status and wealth.

Children milled about, too. Giggling and standing on tip toe to see what all the fuss was about.

On the platform, two servants flanked two carved wooden chairs. One of them – the larger, more elaborate chair – was for Merneith. Prince Atab sat upon the other one, dressed in traditional Sumerian finery. He'd donned a purple, knee-length linen shenti with bright yellow tasseled fringe. A long strip of purple linen draped over his right shoulder and was belted at the waist. Gold-threaded appliques of lions and large winged eagles decorated the draping. Thick black ringlets fell to Atab's shoulders, and he wore a golden circlet around his forehead, a symbol that indicated he was still Sumerian royalty despite his current state of exile.

He was handsome and charming, with skin a warm shade of teak, an aristocratic nose, and straight white teeth. When he turned his dimpled smile Merneith's way, it was hard to imagine that he'd tried to murder his own uncle.

The servants reached the base of the platform and stopped. They lowered the throne, allowing Merneith to stand. One of the men offered his hand to help her climb the stairs, and she waved him off with a flick of her fingers. She could manage five stairs on her own. She ascended and came to stand before Atab. She held her hand out, palm down. The gold bangles on her wrist clinked gently together.

"Hem-etj," Your majesty, Prince Atab greeted her, taking possession of her hand in his large, smooth one, and bowing over it before pressing the back of her wrist to his forehead in a sign of respect. He gave her a slow, lazy assessment and his mouth hitched in a smile. You look like, he waved his free hand as he spoke in his thick, foreign accent, like this most beautiful Eye of Ra. This goddess of yours, Hathor, yes?

His hand still held hers, and Merneith slid it away. But she favoured Atab with a smile, because she needed him on her side. Hathor is a little like your Inanna, I think.

"Mmm. Yes. Goddess of love, beauty, and sex." His spoke the last work in a low, husky tone that suggested they shared an intimate joke.

They didn't, really. Except that when he'd first sought refuge in Kemet, Atab had insinuated they become lovers. Merneith had briefly considered it. But then he'd become fast friends with her brother. Any man who pandered to Wadj was one to tread carefully around. Furthermore, by then, she’d seen glimpses of the sort of man who could kill his own family in order to seize the throne of Sumer.  

Merneith also believed her first lover should be a man she felt safe with. One she need not fear would murder her if she fell asleep next to him in bed.

She said sternly, I understand Inanna is not just goddess of beauty, but also justice, war, and power.

Atab's smile widened. Indeed. You are... how do you say? Smart? Knowing? Ah, he held up a finger, "wise. You are wise, Hem-etj." He tilted his head, and that's when Merneith noticed his eyes had a suspiciously glassy sheen to them.

Ah. So tonight he was not only handsome, charming, and dangerous, but also drunk. Common enough at banquets, but Atab had a fondness for wine that he indulged on a regular basis.  

That could work in Merneith's favour tonight, or against her, depending on his mood. She would try to speak with him once the festivities began, and they would not be overheard. Merneith took her throne and signaled to a pair of waiting servants. They hurried to set a small table and mug of wine next to her, while another called for the entertainment to begin.

Merneith didn't need to travel outside of Kemet to know that her court was unrivaled.

Thinis’s location as the Kemeti seat of power was a strategic choice of Merneith and Wadj’s ancestors. In the distance, one could see the sails of large fishing and shipping vessels bobbing on the life-giving Iteru, the river that snaked through the land of Kemet up to the great northern sea. The river was a major trade route, the profits of which were evident all around them. The wine served tonight came from the far-off lands of Palestine. The steady flow of trade with the Canaanite region was a symbol of the current peace between the two powerful lands.

The lapis lazuli stones braided into Merneith's hair and inlaid in her gold necklace came from Badakhshan in the north-east. The chairs Merneith and Atab sat on were carved of cedar wood from Phoenicia, and the myrrh in Merneith's perfume hailed from Punt to the south.

Merneith's world was at peace. For now. Her brother's aspirations could blow all that apart, like the whirling winds of a desert storm disintegrating mountains of sand and scattering them to the corners of the living world.

The entertainment at the court of Thinis was equally extraordinary. Tonight's banquet was in honour of the goddess Neith, Merneith's namesake. To begin the festivities, the court’s official musicians and acrobatic dancers enacted a battle led by the goddess Neith. Merneith could hardly ignore the actors performing in her honour, and so had to wait to speak with Atab about her concerns.

Next came the five prized elephants that had heralded Merneith's arrival. Of Nubian origin, they danced in unison. The bells and tassels that adorned their heads and backs tinkled and swayed as they stood on their hind legs and moved with choreographed precision.

The sun had set by the time a courtier called out, Compliments of King Alalngar of Sumer, to our illustrious Queen and Pharaoh Wadj.

A troupe of fire eaters took up position in the centre of the courtyard. Their antics and fiery acrobatics drew gasps of horrified delight from the crowd. They leapt through burning circles of fire, juggled flaming balls, and swallowed fiery sticks so far down their gullets even Merneith was impressed.

The timing was perfect. Merneith leaned towards Atab. How kind of your uncle to send such delights to us.

Atab's top lip rose in a sneer. He gave a lazy wave with the hand that held his wine mug, spilling a little red liquid over the edge. Yeees, he drawled. It is a sign, yes? He has, how do you say? Forgiven you for... your sin.

Merneith's brows rose. My sin?

Mmm. Atab took a long pull of his wine, then swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. For housing me.

Ahh. I see.

Atab had arrived on their shores a few moon cycles ago, seeking sanctuary after his failed attempt to assassinate his uncle, King Alalngar. Although it risked the King of Sumer's displeasure, Merneith and her brother had decided to allow Atab refuge in Kemet. He was still the heir to the throne of Sumer, after all, despite his uncle's fury.

Merneith probed, And you? Has he also forgiven you?

She knew that Atab continued to maintain a one-sided correspondence with his uncle in the hopes that he would be returned to favour. In a world where kings and princes frequently vied for power in violent fashion, anything was possible, Merneith supposed. Kings and princes might forgive an assassination attempt – even respect its audacity and planning as a sign of promising ambition and strength.

Queens and princesses, on the other hand, often had to find other means of gaining power and knowledge. Like Merneith was trying to do now.

Atab made a scornful sound in the back of his throat. He will forgive me. I will make this happen. His full mouth pursed in a humourless smile, and Merneith suppressed a shiver of apprehension. Atab had already proven he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

I am pleased that you have decided to stay with us here in Thinis while the Pharaoh travels north, Merneith said, broaching the subject most on her mind ys since her brother left for his tour of the northern cities a few days ago. Atab had gone everywhere with Wadj since his arrival. But not this time.

Did Wadj object to your absence? she tried for an innocent tone. She'd never been as talented at political maneuvering as her aunt, but she had to try. 

Atab's eyes narrowed knowingly, and she feared he'd seen through her questioning.

He gave a lazy, half-smile, and said, His Majesty did not require my- he waved a bejewelled hand, help? Service? My something, yes? He tells me to stay. I stay. Like dog and master, yes? Or this stupid little animal here, he gestured to the centre of the courtyard, where a small monkey was juggling leather balls with its handler. Quite deftly, in fact, and not appearing the least bit stupid.

No problem, Atab continued. I am here. I have this, he held up his mug, pretty ladies, he tipped his mug in Merneith's direction, and all this. He spread his arms to indicate the court. As if he were pharaoh here, and not Wadj. Or as if Merneith were not queen.

Still, Merneith forced a smile. Atab's accent was thickening, and his normally eloquent Kemeti regressing. She didn't think she'd get much information from him tonight. Except to learn that perhaps a rift had occurred between him and Wadj.  

Still, she tried once more. I know how much Wadj values your friendship.

Atab chuckled darkly. Yes. We are great friends, he and me. He and me, he repeated in a sing-song voice. You and me, you and me. We are the same, yes? He tells you to stay, and you stay also. Perhaps you and me, we are also great friends, mmm? He leaned back in his chair to study her down his long, straight nose.

Then his sensual lips turned up in a mocking smile, as if daring her to ask him more so he could taunt her. She chose not to oblige and looked back to the fire eaters instead.

Atab was not wrong. Wadj had ordered her to stay in Thinis while he went north for two months, and it seemed he'd done the same to Prince Atab. She and Wadj had had a great row about it, and it was this that had kept her worried for the past five days.

She feared what havoc Wadj might cause if she wasn’t there to temper his impulsive behaviour. He'd become increasingly obsessed with gaining power over all the governors and people of Kemet, even those tribes and regions who had remained free and at peace for centuries. The sycophants that served as his advisors would happily go along with anything he proposed, as long he as continued to look on them with favour.

Merneith caught sight of a pair of green eyes in the crowd. Unusual in Kemet, a land of predominantly dark-eyed people. Not only were this man’s eyes an extraordinary colour, a shade lighter than the leaves of a lotus flower, but there was also a fierce intensity in them as they studied the crowd.

He was taller than most, broader, thicker, more muscular. His lack of adornment marked him as either a servant or a foreigner. Aside from a simple white linen shenti and laced sandals, he wore nothing else but a belted leather sheath with a wide, curved blade. Merneith didn’t know how the stranger could have entered into the courtyard with it, as no guests were allowed to wear weapons, not even ceremonial daggers.

His semi-nude state highlighted the thick bold line of his tattoos, usually rare in Kemet and nothing of this magnitude. A forest's worth of mythical creatures in black ink ran up over the man’s left bicep and shoulder and over to the right side of his chest and upper back. They seemed to move and shift, although the man was standing still.

What might it feel like to touch the strong black lines on his chest, to trace the ridges of the raised ink, and the ridges of his sculpted torso?

A prickle of awareness spread through Merneith's body, raising bumps on the skin of her thighs and arms. She cast an involuntary, guilty glance at Sar Atab to make sure he hadn’t noticed. He was leaning away to fill his wine mug. Merneith turned her attention back to the stranger and his face, tanned the colour of faded henna and framed by wavy, chin-length black hair.

As if sensing her attention, the man looked towards her, his gaze flickering between her and Atab. Then his shocking eyes locked on hers. It was as if the desert began to slide away from Merneith on either side. As if the crowd swirled off in a sandstorm and all that was left was this stranger staring her down as his eyes bore into her from beneath long lashes and locks of dark hair.

Alarmed to be caught staring, Merneith pretended she'd only been scanning the crowd. Her heart pounded, and she fought to control it. He was only a man, and a stranger at that. And why shouldn't she look at him? She was the queen and could do as she please.

He is sexy, no? Atab's voice slurred in her ear, startling her.

"Sorry, Sar?" she addressed him with the respectful title of Prince. Her heart pounded. Had he seen her staring at the man?  

Atab leaned over the arm of his chair and looked seductively up at her through his dark lashes. He pointed to the performance area in front of them, where the fire-eaters had been replaced two tigers performing tricks. This cat. He move like woman dancing, and his hair... I think I would like to touch it with my face. This is sexy, no?

Merneith let out a relieved breath, laughing at the irony of Atab’s words. She’d been thinking of touching something very different, of course. I think you're right. He is very sexy. Her eyes strayed through the crowd again, hoping for another glimpse of the foreigner.

A piercing scream cut through the night.

The tiger Atab pointed to broke free of its handler, knocking him down with a swipe from its massive paw. The magnificent cat stood in the centre of the date palm lined courtyard, snout raised high, emitting a heavy whuffing noise.

The other tiger strained against its handler. For a moment, the handler appeared undecided whether to hold on or flee. The tiger looked back over its shoulder, glaring at the handler. The man released the rope. Too late. The tiger lunged. It swung one giant, vicious paw at the man's side and sent him reeling backwards.

People fled in all directions. Chairs were knocked over, women screamed, and guardsmen fought against a sea of shoving, scrabbling people. The tigers roared and flashed through the crowd.

Merneith grabbed Atab's arm and yanked him up with her. The palace doors were a long way off, and people were knocking one another down in their attempts to get there. But there was a small temple behind the platform, not far away.

She pulled Atab towards the edge of the dais. He stumbled, his legs tangling in the chairs. His hands shoved against her back. She tumbled down the steps towards the tigers and banged her knees on the hard-packed earth, rattling her teeth and scraping her outstretched hands. On her hands and knees, she rested. Stunned.

A firm hand clasped her bicep, jerking her up. The tattooed man towered above her, his face tight and his bright green eyes fixed on the raging tigers nearby. Her knees buckled, and he snatched her up, tossing her over his shoulder like a sailor slinging a sack of grain. Holy gods, was he kidnapping her? Had this been staged all along?

Put me down! Merneith beat a futile fist against the man’s back. He ignored her protests and bounded towards the temple behind the platform.

He slipped into the open door of the temple and set her down before crowding her into the corner next to the door. The temple was narrow, with just enough room for Merneith to squeeze against the wall with the large man directly in front of her, face to face. Well, face to neck, really, as he was very tall and broad.

He had both hands splayed on the wall on either side of her shoulders, caging her in, while he peered around her and out the door. He was close enough that she could smell him. Cinnamon and warm, dry cedar wood, mingled with something purely masculine.

Who are you? she whispered fiercely.

The stranger turned to Merneith. He placed the palm of his calloused hand on her waist, pressing her further into the corner.

He leaned in close. Shhh. They'll hear you.

His breath on her neck caused another rush of tingling energy to surge through her and the fine hairs on her arms to rise. It was not entirely unpleasant. She ought to feel threatened by his size, his unusual appearance, and this very situation.

But she didn't.

Instead, she was acutely aware of his large, warm hand still resting on her waist and the way his scent invaded her senses. She nudged at his forearm with her elbow until his hand dropped away. Her reaction to his closeness irritated her as much as his boldness for touching her in the first place. No one touched her without permission.

Even if he had saved her life.   

Tell me who you are, she repeated, quietly this time. Her voice didn't quaver, and she'd managed a note of authority.  

The strong column of his neck was so close, his lips brushed her ear, sending another shower of prickling awareness over her. I am Sekhrey Bey. I have sent you requests. You refused me.

His foreign accent, slightly different than Prince Atab's, was thick and his r’s rolled. But it was his words that stunned Merneith. Sekhrey Bey? I know not of what you speak.

The pharaoh made me sekhrey half a moon cycle ago.

That's impossible. No one consulted me. Merneith had received requests for increased security but had no idea that a new captain had been appointed. She should have been involved in choosing him. And she certainly should have met the man before he draped her over his