The Lost Valor of Love

31 | MAY HORUS PROTECT YOU

Her heart pounding, Meresamun hastened past the deeper shadows of Ahmen's pleasure garden toward the compound's gate, warm and bright in its pool of torchlight. She stepped from the gloom.

A guard glanced up, startled, his hand darting to the hilt of his dagger. "Lady Meresamun, is something amiss?"

"I have a task to which I must attend," she answered, "and would have the door unbarred."

When he hesitated, she moved into the torchlight, letting him see her temple gown.

He dithered, uncertain. "I will have one of my men accompany you." He gestured to one of the others.

"An escort is coming for me," she said, holding up her hand to stop the other guard from approaching, "you need not ask one of your men to leave their post. I shall be quite safe."

"My lady, we have received no notice of an escort arriving at this time."

"It is a matter of some discretion." She found a faint smile for him. "I assure you, I shall be quite safe. Please, I will be late."

He turned, still uncertain, to heft the bar aside. Meresamun hoped he would not be punished for yielding to her deception. It was wrong of her to lead him to believe she was going to the temple, but after hours laying awake turning over the possibilities, she knew of no other way she could convince him to unbar the door.

He opened the door and looked out. His arm came out, stopping her before she could pass. "There is no one waiting for you. I do not like this, not one bit."

She pushed his arm aside, gentle. "The goddess will protect me."

Uneasy, he drew back. She stepped into the lane and looked back as the door swung closed; the torchlight within reducing to a narrow band, then a sliver. A quiet thud. Darkness surrounded her. Inside, the wooden beam settled into place, soft, so as not to attract attention.

She shivered. It was cold in the alley. Wrapping her arms around herself, she peered along both directions of the lane, pressing down a tremor of fear. It had been easy to see the northern gate's location from atop the terrace of Ahmen's apartment, but down here between the high compound walls with their overhanging canopies, she could only see a thin strip of sky. All her bearings were lost.

She could only guess. Resigned, she set out for where she hoped the northern gate lay. Trailing her fingers along the outside of Ahmen's courtyard wall, she waited for her eyes to adapt to the shadows. Coming to the wall's corner, she halted. The lane opened up into a small courtyard. At its opposite end, three merchant alleys branched away. With their overhanging awnings, the alleys lay shrouded in an even deeper gloom. Uncertainty assailed her, she had no idea which way to go. She was traveling blind.

She looked back along the wall, toward Ahmen's gate. It was not too late to change her mind, she could go back. She turned halfway, then stopped, shame filling her. No, she had made her choice. There was no going back. Hoping the middle alley would lead to a main thoroughfare, she decided to take that one. Soon, Re-Atum's barque would ascend and Ahmen would wake to find her gone.

She hurried along the alley, keeping to her chosen path, even as it curved back onto itself. It led to a dead end. A chicken coop filled the space. Within their baskets, the chickens looked up at her in the leaden pre-dawn light, their feathers flattening. Turning back the way she came, she stopped. Two men, elegant and well-groomed, blocked her way.

Despite the dim light, she could see their white kilts were immaculate, the linen a fine, smooth weave; the hems embroidered with a band of hieroglyphs sewn in delicate silver thread. Their belts bore gems, and the leather scabbards of their daggers were inlaid with silver and lapis lazuli.

Meresamun swallowed, these were not Ahmen's men. Whoever they belonged to however, was powerful, and very rich.

"My lords, please allow me to pass."

One of them bowed, graceful. "You must come with us, Lady Meresamun," he said, as charming as a palace courtier. "Our lord has commanded us to bring you to him."

Alarmed, she edged away from them. The backs of her legs touched the low walls of the coop. "I would know who is commanding you to bring a free woman to him against her will."

"You will know when you arrive," he answered, still full of charm. "We have been told to use any means necessary, though we would prefer not to have to force you." He gestured behind him and smiled, his teeth white and even. "There is a closed palanquin waiting for you where you may ride in comfort. We will carry you to him."

"I am afraid I cannot oblige," Meresamun replied, striving to maintain her calm, though her heart pounded so loud, she feared they could hear it in the claustrophobic, oppressive silence. "I have somewhere else I must go, someone is waiting for me and will know I am missing if I do not arrive on time."

"There is no one waiting," he said, his smile tightening as his patience thinned. "Please, do not make this difficult for yourself, you will come with us, whether you consent or not."

"I will never consent," Meresamun panted, terror taking her in its grip. "I beg you, do not carry out this dishonorable command. Think of the day of your judgment, when your heart must face the scales of Ma'at."

The men exchanged a look. The other man moved forward. His hand shot out, quick as a viper and caught the back of her head, his fingers wrapping in her hair. With gentle but firm tugs, he pulled her head backward. The fingers of his other hand clamped onto her jaw, forcing her mouth open. Panicking, she cried out for help, her voice loud in the enclosed space.

"Open her mouth wider," the first man said, terse. "Good. Now swallow, my lady, and quickly, for the essence is vile."

She tasted a bitter liquid at the back of her throat. Gagging, she struggled, trying to spit it out. She choked. Unable to stop herself, she swallowed the foul, viscous fluid, her eyes watering. A heartbeat passed, two. A dullness settled over her, the sensation spreading from her torso to her extremities. Her legs folded beneath her.

One of them caught her and lifted her up. "Forgive us," he murmured as he carried her away, "but our lord must be obeyed. You have been given a sleeping draft, used by surgeons for operations. It will not harm you, though when you wake you should drink plenty of water, it will help to ease the pain you will have in your head."

The softness of cushions underneath her. A blanket came over her, warming her cooling body. A whisper in her ear, "Sleep well, and may Horus protect you."

Darkness.