Scroll of Saqqara(106)
Khaemwaset watched her with pleasure. Her whole mien had changed. Her shoulders were straight, her carriage more assured. There was even the suggestion of a slight seductive sway in her sharply boned hips. “You have been doing her good,” he said softly. Tbubui stirred on her cushion, her hand sliding down her gleaming calf to the silver anklet with its pendant baboons.
“I think she loves Harmin,” she replied forthrightly, “and love will turn a girl into a woman, a self-conscious, awkward child into a being with the allure of Astarte herself.”
“And what of Harmin?”
“I have not spoken to him directly of the matter,” Tbubui said in an undertone, “but it is obvious that he cares for her a great deal. Do not worry, Prince,” she went on hastily, seeing his expression. “They are never alone together, and Bakmut continues to sleep just inside the Princess’s door.”
He laughed to cover thc moment of mild dislike for Harmin. “I cannot imagine her being anything other than delighted to have you join my family,” he said rather pompously out of the moment of confusion. “I love you Tbubui.”
“I love you also, dear Prince,” she responded, looking up at him steadily. “I also am relieved that the Princess and I have so much affection for one another. Rest assured that I will do my best to gain the respect of Nubnofret also, and young Hori.”
That will be a difficult task, Khaemwaset thought impatiently. Aloud he said, “I am the law, I am Ma’at under my own roof. They will accept you whether they like it or not.” Clapping his hands he shouted, “Ib,” and after a moment his steward approached from the garden and bowed. “Give me the document.” For answer, Ib withdrew a scroll from his belt, handed it to Khaemwaset and smoothly walked away. Khaemwaset handed it to Tbubui.
“The marriage contract,” he said; he could not keep the triumph out of his voice. “Read it at your leisure, and tell me if it is agreeable to you. I have added one clause that is a trifle unusual, for your protection as well as mine.” She had placed the papyrus beside her and was watching him blank-faced. “Pharaoh must approve my choice of a wife if I am to remain in the line of succession in Egypt,” he explained. “Therefore I ask you to add your seal to the scroll with the understanding that the document only becomes legal when Penbuy has returned from Koptos carrying proof of your noble blood.” He had steeled himself to say these words to her, uncertain of her response, and now, as she continued to stare at him, he leaned forward and groped for her hand. It was icy and limp in his grasp. “Do not be offended, I beg you,” he went on urgently. “It is a formality, nothing more.”
“Koptos?” she said tonelessly. “You have sent your scribe to Koptos?” Then she seemed to come to herself. “Of course I understand, Prince,” she assured him. “Love must not overwhelm the demands of state, must it?”
“You have misunderstood,” he cried, as helplessly as a young man in the throes of first infatuation. ‘I will have you anyway, Tbubui, as my brother Si-Montu defied Ramses to obtain Ben-Anath! But how much simpler, how much less anguish for my whole family, if I am able to marry you under my father’s smile.”
“And besides,” she cut in, gently pulling her hand away, “your brother had no family when he won Ben Anath. You have a son who might be disinherited if you are taken from that illustrious succession, who will have had his own chance at the throne removed.” Her chin came up, “I do understand, dearest. I am after all a noblewoman …”
And no mean person, Khaemwaset’s mind supplied immediately, cynically, and he started.
“… and can bow to the demands of state with equanimity.” She was smiling now, a tiny, humorous quirk to her glistening red mouth. But I am not a patient woman. How soon will Penbuy return with the answer to my happiness under his oh-so-correct arm?”
“He left this morning,” Khaemwaset told her. “He will arrive at Koptos in a little less than a week, and who can tell how long his researches will take? Can you contain your impatience for a month, Tbubui?”
For answer she glanced about the hall, rose to her knees and, placing both hands on Khaemwaset’s bare thighs, she reached up and kissed him. Her lips, her tongue, were hot and wet. Her nails dug into his flesh, exciting him. “I will seal the contract today,” she murmured, her mouth moving against his. “Forgive me, Prince, for my moment of chagrin. Have you told Nubnofret yet?”
Dizzily he relinquished her and she sank back onto the cushion. “Not yet,” he managed. “I have not found an opportune time.”