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Authors: T. L. Higley
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apes here to amuse me.
The guests’ rhythm had reached an impossible pace, and the crowd roared as Perni’s feet inevitably tangled and he fell to the floor in a heap. The little man righted himself, bowed to Khufu who clapped louder than the rest of them, and skipped away.
Serving boys and girls poured into the room, offering ointment, wreaths, and perfumes, and ladling wine from alabaster bowls. The drinking began.
I had no desire to engage Tamit in conversation, so I chose the secondary evil, to speak to Oba on my other side. The older man needed only a small encouragement to set off on expounding the deplorable morality of the laborers, leaving me free to think of other things while nodding in agreement.
I caught sight of Axum again, still silent and watching. The man understood that I wanted something of him, and he would not leave before we had spoken.
It was time for the harem women to dance. I sighed and propped my elbows on the table. Already the flickering torchlight and noise had worked their way into my head. I rubbed my temples, hoping to relieve the tension.
I did not intend to watch the women dance, but there was a symmetry to their movements I found pleasing. They began inunity, with slow steps, beating time on short sticks they held aloft. Female singers stood behind them and produced slow, clear tones that carried effortlessly through the heavy air.
Beat, beat, beat . Twenty sticks and twenty feet sounded as one. Their measured steps brought them closer to the head table where Pharaoh was transfixed. Their unity was most satisfactory. I let my eyes roam over each one, appreciating the standards that guided Ra’henem, the superintendent of the harem.
Tamit was at my ear again. “I take it back,” she murmured. “It is not only the women without men who have eyes for Hemiunu.”
I leaned away but glanced at her. She inclined her head toward one of the dancers, at the edge of the group. I followed her look and found a petite girl, all wrapped with orange ribbons, breaking the symmetry to watch me. My mouth went dry and I looked away.
Tamit laughed. “Have no fear, Hemi. She won’t be allowed to do more than look.”
I shrugged and reached for a small loaf of bread.
“Besides,” Tamit said, running a finger over her lips, “I should claw her eyes out if she did.”
Turning away, I chose to scan the faces of those seated at the side tables and mentally recite each of their names. It was a game I played often, pushing myself to know everyone. I found that men felt appreciated when a superior called them by name and would therefore work harder. Most of the men’s faces were covered with sloppy grins at the sight of the harem dancers.
I spotted Sen’s daughter, Neferet, also watching the dancers as though memorizing their fluid movements. The dance ended with some sort of flourish I missed, and the crowd erupted with shouts and claps. The women twirled out, and musicians took their place, with men singing to the accompaniment of harps and flutes.
Already slave boys were replacing oil in lamps that had been fueled to blaze madly. I exhaled and used the back of my hand to wipe my forehead. Why must the Great Hall be kept so hot? The perfumed wigs and smoking torches were making my eyes swim.
Finally, the servers brought the meat. After Khufu had been served, platters of geese and various game circled the room. The ever-faithful Ebo stood behind Khufu, overseeing the service with a pleasant smile but watchful eyes.
When a boy’s ladle sloshed wine onto the table’s edge before Khufu, the pharaoh pushed back from the table, taking care not to allow the wine to drip onto his white robe. “Cursed boy! Have you just come from feeding the goats?”
The boy bowed and disappeared, and Ebo stepped in to wipe away the spill. Khufu smacked the servant’s arm. “Where do you get these boys, Ebo?”
Ebo’s smile never wavered. “I am sorry, Great One. I will attend you myself this evening.”
The guests’ rhythm had reached an impossible pace, and the crowd roared as Perni’s feet inevitably tangled and he fell to the floor in a heap. The little man righted himself, bowed to Khufu who clapped louder than the rest of them, and skipped away.
Serving boys and girls poured into the room, offering ointment, wreaths, and perfumes, and ladling wine from alabaster bowls. The drinking began.
I had no desire to engage Tamit in conversation, so I chose the secondary evil, to speak to Oba on my other side. The older man needed only a small encouragement to set off on expounding the deplorable morality of the laborers, leaving me free to think of other things while nodding in agreement.
I caught sight of Axum again, still silent and watching. The man understood that I wanted something of him, and he would not leave before we had spoken.
It was time for the harem women to dance. I sighed and propped my elbows on the table. Already the flickering torchlight and noise had worked their way into my head. I rubbed my temples, hoping to relieve the tension.
I did not intend to watch the women dance, but there was a symmetry to their movements I found pleasing. They began inunity, with slow steps, beating time on short sticks they held aloft. Female singers stood behind them and produced slow, clear tones that carried effortlessly through the heavy air.
Beat, beat, beat . Twenty sticks and twenty feet sounded as one. Their measured steps brought them closer to the head table where Pharaoh was transfixed. Their unity was most satisfactory. I let my eyes roam over each one, appreciating the standards that guided Ra’henem, the superintendent of the harem.
Tamit was at my ear again. “I take it back,” she murmured. “It is not only the women without men who have eyes for Hemiunu.”
I leaned away but glanced at her. She inclined her head toward one of the dancers, at the edge of the group. I followed her look and found a petite girl, all wrapped with orange ribbons, breaking the symmetry to watch me. My mouth went dry and I looked away.
Tamit laughed. “Have no fear, Hemi. She won’t be allowed to do more than look.”
I shrugged and reached for a small loaf of bread.
“Besides,” Tamit said, running a finger over her lips, “I should claw her eyes out if she did.”
Turning away, I chose to scan the faces of those seated at the side tables and mentally recite each of their names. It was a game I played often, pushing myself to know everyone. I found that men felt appreciated when a superior called them by name and would therefore work harder. Most of the men’s faces were covered with sloppy grins at the sight of the harem dancers.
I spotted Sen’s daughter, Neferet, also watching the dancers as though memorizing their fluid movements. The dance ended with some sort of flourish I missed, and the crowd erupted with shouts and claps. The women twirled out, and musicians took their place, with men singing to the accompaniment of harps and flutes.
Already slave boys were replacing oil in lamps that had been fueled to blaze madly. I exhaled and used the back of my hand to wipe my forehead. Why must the Great Hall be kept so hot? The perfumed wigs and smoking torches were making my eyes swim.
Finally, the servers brought the meat. After Khufu had been served, platters of geese and various game circled the room. The ever-faithful Ebo stood behind Khufu, overseeing the service with a pleasant smile but watchful eyes.
When a boy’s ladle sloshed wine onto the table’s edge before Khufu, the pharaoh pushed back from the table, taking care not to allow the wine to drip onto his white robe. “Cursed boy! Have you just come from feeding the goats?”
The boy bowed and disappeared, and Ebo stepped in to wipe away the spill. Khufu smacked the servant’s arm. “Where do you get these boys, Ebo?”
Ebo’s smile never wavered. “I am sorry, Great One. I will attend you myself this evening.”
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