Ptah-Seankh found his voice “You want me to go to Koptos and do nothing?”
“Exactly.” Suddenly she straightened, unfolded her arms, then swooped to pick up his pen, handing it to him with a gracious gesture. “Fill in Khaemwaset’s name and titles, seal the document with your own mark. What do you use, by the way?”
“The mark of Thoth. The baboon sitting on a moon,” he stammered, and she nodded.
“Oh yes, of course. Well, do it, and give the scroll to me. When you return from Koptos you will come first to my house and I will give it back to you. Then you will give it to the Prince.”
“Noble One, this is contemptible!” Ptah-Seankh choked out, furious and afraid, knowing that all she said was true and if he wanted a long and prosperous career in the Prince’s generous service he would have to do as she requested. The act would poison him, he realized. It would be a dirty secret between himself and this unscrupulous woman that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Is it contemptible to give the Prince what he wants?” she asked, sweetly reasonable. “Surely not. He desires me and will marry me no matter what, but how much happier he will be to do so with the approval of both history and Ramses.”
Ptah-Seankh could say no more. He took the pen and quickly finished the scroll, then he passed it up to her. Taking it, she indicated that he might rise. He did so, fighting to stilt the trembling in his knees. “Remember,” she said, “not one word of this to anyone, even when you are drunk. If you speak of it, and I find out, I will not only disgrace you, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
He did. Brushing those implacable, determined eyes with his own he was convinced that she was capable of doing as she said. She must have seen her threat go home, for she pursed her lips, satisfied. “Good. Now tell the herald waiting in the passage to go and announce me to the Princess Nubnofret. I must pay my respects.”
With all the dignity he could muster, Ptah-Seankh gathered up his palette, bowed and left the room. Any respect and admiration he might have had for her died even as he was closing the door politely behind him, and he knew that he would be at the beck and call of a woman he hated for the rest of his working life.
THE HERALD’S VOICE had scarcely ceased to echo in the high ceiling of Nubnofret’s quarters when Wernuro ushered Tbubui forward. Nubnofret rose from the chair where she had obviously been inspecting the household accounts. At a word her steward gathered up the mess of scrolls on the table behind which he had been standing, bowed to both women and backed out of the room.
Nubnofret went forward unsmiling, and Wernuro closed the doors and settled herself in a corner. One other servant hovered discreetly just out of earshot. Nubnofret waved Tbubui further into the room.
“I received the message that you were coming,” she said curtly, “and I apologize for greeting you so hastily, Tbubui. Today is the day I go over the expenditures for the house with my steward, and we have barely finished.” Her eyes flicked over the other woman’s attire without expression and returned to her face. Tbubui bowed.
“And I apologize for coming at such an inauspicious time,” she responded with equal gravity. “I do not intend to waste your time, Princess. I believe that the Prince has told you of his decision to make me his Second Wife.”
Nubnofret nodded, her good manners freezing into an icy politeness. One did not bring up such matters so abruptly. Traditionally, the soon-to-be Second Wife waited for an invitation from the Chief Wife to officially enter the house and inspect the quarters prepared for her, or if the Chief Wife neglected her duty in presenting the invitation, she spent several hours in idle and light conversation before hesitantly and very carefully bringing up the subject of the marriage. The brief flare of friendship Nubnofret had felt for Tbubui had died long ago, and now it was being nailed into its coffin.
“I wished to come and visit you as soon as possible,” Tbubui went on, “to assure you of my respect and affection and to tell you that nothing will change here in your home.”
You impudent bitch, Nubnofret thought viciously. You swagger in here without being asked and then you have the gall to condescend to me.
“Please be seated if you wish,” she said aloud. “Would you like some refreshment?” It was not her custom to ask. Usually guests would be immediately offered a variety of food and drink. She had the satisfaction of seeing a slight flush creep into Tbubui’s cheeks, though her calm gaze did not falter.
“How kind of you,” Tbubui said. Nubnofret did not miss the faint whiff of sarcasm in the gracious words. “But the heat quite snatches my appetite away.” She had not sat down. She remained on her feet, confident and effortlessly lovely, and Nubnofret had to crush an instant of pure, undiluted jealousy.