The brush trembled on his temples and then resumed its slow tracking. Kasa straightened and dabbled the tool in the bowl of water on the table. He did not look at his master. “This is good news,” he said formally. “I offer you wishes of long life, health and prosperity, Highness. Please do not speak. I must now paint your mouth.”
Khaemwaset was silent until the henna, cool and moist, was drying on his lips, then he said, “Have my architect in my office this evening. I intend to design an additional suite of rooms for Second Wife Tbubui, to be added to the house.”
“Very good, Highness. And is this news now universal?”
Khaemwaset chuckled at his body servant’s extreme tact. “Yes,” he answered, and sat without another word until Kasa picked up the gold-and-lapis pectoral and the gold bracelets lying on the couch and carefully completed the Prince’s dressing. “If I am needed I will be in the Princess’s rooms,” he told the man, and walked out. The die had been cast. Now he absolutely must tell Nubnofret.
Amek and Ib left their posts outside the door and swung in behind him as he made his way through the wide passages of his domain. The morning sweeping and cleaning was almost finished and Khaemwaset moved through dancing dust motes shimmering in the frequent patches of sunlight and the deep prostrations of his house servants.
Bidding his escort wait, he greeted Wernuro at his wife’s door, was announced, and stepped within. Nubnofret turned to him with a smile. She was wearing a full yellow sheath embroidered in gold thread that left her ample arms and statuesque neck bare. Her long hair had been braided with gold-shot ribbon, and a gold circlet, surmounted by an image of the vulture goddess Mut, cut across her brown forehead. She was still barefoot. Khaemwaset had time to think with a pang how truly voluptuous she was with the tendrils of damp hair curling out of the thick braid to lie against her painted cheeks and the outline of her large breasts showing tantalizingly through the thin, gauzy linen.
“So you rose early also, dear brother,” she commented happily as she held up her face for his kiss. “What do you have planned for the day? I hope it includes an hour or two of dalliance with me!” She has changed since Sheritra left, he pondered, his lips brushing her scented skin. She is less heavily serious, less consumed with the correct running of the house. Sheritra reminds her of her failures, perhaps, or of the years that pass so much more quickly for a woman than for a man. Poor Nubnofret.
“I want to talk to you privately,” he said. “Come out onto the terrace.”
She nodded and followed him across her room to where three steps led between pillars to the draught-cooled, roofed cloister. Another couple of steps would have taken them out into the full glare of a morning already stale with heat. Thick shrubbery shielded the entrance from the rear garden. Khaemwaset indicated a chair but she shook her head. Mut’s obsidian eye glowered balefully at Khaemwaset as she did so.
“I have been sitting for an hour getting my hair and face done,” she explained. “What is it, Khaemwaset? Am I now to know what has been troubling you?”
He sighed inwardly. “I do not know how to put this gently,” he said, “so I will not try. For some time now I have been increasingly attracted to another woman, Nubnofret. I viewed this involvement with annoyance, for I am a man of set habits who likes a predictable family life, but it grew in spite of my efforts to ignore it. I am now in love with her and I have decided to marry her.”
Nubnofret made a soft exclamation but Khaemwaset, daring to glance at her, did not think she was expressing shock or even surprise. It sounded more like irritation. “Go on,” she said evenly. She was standing perfectly still, bejewelled arms at her sides, looking at him. He still could not face her squarely.
“There is little else to say,” he admitted. “She will move into the concubines’ quarters until I can design and have built a proper suite for her in the house, and of course she will be only Second Wife. You will remain mistress of the household in every way.”
“Naturally,” she said, still in that odd, flat tone. “It is your prerogative to take as many wives as you want, Khaemwaset, and I am only surprised that you have not done so sooner.” But she still did not sound surprised. She sounded completely indifferent. He had never seen her so composed. “When will the contract be drawn up?”
Now he forced himself to face her. Her eyes were huge and expressionless. “It has been drawn up already. She has signed it and so have I.”
“Then you have had this on your mind and you have planned carefully for quite some time.” A faint smile came and went on her pink mouth. “Can it be that you were afraid to tell me, dear brother? I am sorry to disappoint you. I have suspected such a thing for weeks. Who is this most fortunate woman? A princess surely, for Ramses would allow you a commoner for a concubine but not for a royal wife.”