Out of the Black Land by Kerry Greenwood Read Free Book Online Page A

with Kheperren, then I heard a woman cough, and realised that it was Meryt my slave and that I had to get up and assemble a household.
I was drinking warmed wine and nibbling a honeycake when I heard someone come in and kneel down. I looked up from the last census, which seemed to have been carried out with commendable efficiency, and saw the one I loved more than any other in the world. He was prostrate, his hand touching my foot, as any scribe should be before the Great Royal Scribe.
‘Meryt!’ I called. ‘Shut the outer door and stand guard!’ and as she ran to draw the big portal closed, I seized my dearest companion, dragging him into my arms. He fitted perfectly into my embrace, as he always had.
‘Oh my heart,’ I said into his hair. He hugged me for a moment, his fingers digging into my shoulder, and then whispered ‘ ‘Hotep, why did you not send for me?’
‘Because that would have meant your death, and still may if any marked you coming here.’
‘I don’t think so,’ his brow corrugated, as it always did when he was thinking. ‘I did not need to ask the way. I have been here before, when I took a message for the Master of Scribes to the old Royal Scribe. No one would have noticed me, particularly. What do you mean, I’m in danger? That means that you are in danger!’ He held me closer, his mouth against my jaw. ‘Let me stay with you,’ he begged.
‘No, I can’t, don’t ask me, brother of my heart. I love you too much to put you in such peril.’
His scent was on my skin, the dear scent of my own brother, and I allowed myself a moment to hold him tight, as though I could imprint his body on my body. Then I drew away from him. I felt strangely weak, as though I was bleeding from some invisible wound. If Kheperren argued with me, if he pleaded, I did not know whether I would be able to resist him. And I must resist.
But he did not speak, at first. He looked closely at me, as though he was memorising my features. He grew more beautiful every moment. His eyes were gentle and his mouth was soft. He kissed me, lips parting, tongues touching. I drank the sweet silkiness of his inner lip. Then he laid one hand very softly on my thigh, and my body reacted at once. He nodded, as though some private theory had been confirmed. Then he sat back on his heels and said diffidently, ‘What do you want me to do, brother?’
‘Forget me,’ I said. He shook his head so that his golden earrings tinkled.
‘I cannot do that,’ he said. ‘What else?’
‘Leave the palace without being observed. Never come here again. I am rich now, brother, I can give you an estate in the country, if you wish.’
‘I will never go there without you,’ he replied. He was not arguing, but he was definite. ‘If you are afraid for me, brother, you cannot give me anything without the envious ones knowing. That will attract their attention. Is this not true?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, rather taken aback by his calm acceptance of the situation. Yet I was sure that he loved me.
This was confirmed when he took a seal cutting knife from my table and sawed off a lock of his hair. He gave it to me without speaking. I cut off a similar tress and he wound it around his fingers and stowed it in his cloth, against his skin. Such gifts are love gifts, yielding great power to the recipient. Any competent sorcerer could cast a curse on the giver if he had some of his hair.
Kheperren said abruptly, ‘They are taking scribes today for the army. I will go with Horemheb, the captain who is required to travel the border. I will write to you. And one day we will lie in our hut in the reeds, with a dog called Wolf on guard. The oracle said so,’ he told me.
He leaned forward and kissed me again. Our tears mingled.
‘But never ask me to forget you,’ he said.
Then he bowed to me. Meryt opened the door, and he was gone.
I stared for a time at the closed door. It had brazen studs in the shape of lotus blossoms. Then I sent Meryt to bring to my presence