The Pharaoh's Daughter by Mesu Andrews Read Free Book Online

Sebak?”
    Mered hurried out the door and down the hallway, past the granaries and bakery, without stopping for breath. He’d have to thank the chief brewer for that rescue when they saw each other in the craftsmen’s village.
    The chief Hebrew overseers were housed with the skilled craftsmen in a special area of the estate. Six mud-brick long houses had been built north of the villa and down a slight hill, along the banks of the Nile. Ramessid guards seldom visited the craftsmen’s village—unless one of the skilled Hebrews needed discipline. The guards were forbidden to harm the craftsmen for fear that production of jewelry, beer, or linen might decrease. Instead, guards tortured skilled craftsmen through their families—making wives, children, or even parents pay for the craftsmen’s errors.
    Mered was breathless by the time he returned to his linen shop, but crossing the threshold was like entering the safety of a womb. The steady rhythm of the weavers’ wefts and warps echoed his heartbeat. Unskilled laborers hummed in time, striking flax stalks with wooden mallets to separate the fibers.
    His workmen had labored nonstop since Master Sebak’s surprise visit with General Horemheb. News of the wedding had revived them all with purpose and joy. Master Sebak was different from other Ramessids. Kinder. More just. His personal loss and pain made him more generous with slaves who enduredhardship daily, and each one agreed that the master had endured life alone long enough.
    Mered shouted above the rhythmic beat of busy hands. “Skilled craftsmen, go home for the night and get some rest. Unskilled, remain till morning. I’ll send a new group at dawn to relieve you.”
    The designers, weavers, and bead workers halted their projects and congregated at the north door. “Mered, are you coming?”
    A moment of decision. Should he stay to supervise or sleep a few hours? The brewer’s words echoed in his memory.
“You worry too much, my friend.”
His sleeping mat beckoned him, and the thought of his wife’s warm body urged him toward the door.
    â€œYes, I’m coming.”
    His wife, Puah, had been gone the morning Master Sebak summoned Mered to the linen shop at dawn to announce his wedding plans. Puah kept strange hours now that she’d been assigned as assistant to the Ramessids’ chief midwife, Shiphrah.
    Mered’s heart squeezed a little, wondering how the midwives felt about the king’s return for Sebak’s wedding. When Pharaoh Tut last visited the Delta with Queen Senpa, Shiphrah and Puah had been woken in the middle of the night to attend the queen’s premature birth pains. Puah had cried for days afterward, reliving the heartbreak of the stillborn baby girl. Did his wife know Queen Senpa was expecting a second child and would soon be returning for the wedding?
    A group of thirty craftsmen left the north door of the linen shop. Those in front and back carried sticks and torches to ward off night beasts. Hoping to distract himself from the dangers of their journey, Mered squeezed a young weaver’s shoulder. “Are you almost finished with the amira’s wedding gown? I saw your progress. The design is exquisite.”
    The weaver’s eyes were wide with fear, his back as rigid as the stick he held to ward off jackals. “It should be finished by the time the royal barque arrives, my lord.”
    My lord.
Mered hated when his brother Hebrews treated him like an Egyptian master. “You need not call me
‘my lord.
’ I’m simply Mered.” He pattedthe weaver’s shoulder, hoping to infuse a measure of peace, but saw that his attempts were simply prolonging the young weaver’s discomfort.
    Mered slowed his steps, allowing the weaver to join those with whom he felt more comfortable. The group ahead began shouting and waving their sticks and torches, giving wide berth to a small knot of hyenas feeding