Chapter Nine

Nabirye floated on her back in the Nile, reveling in the sensation of being pleasantly cool and relatively weightless in the buoyant water. Thrusting her arms out sideways, she lazily moved her arms back and forth as if she were flying in the water. Moving one arm faster than the other, she pivoted in the water. Khamun, who floated not too far from Nabirye, gradually came into view. First his feet, slightly submerged below the water, then his long legs, his waist, covered with his water logged linen kilt, then his stomach, chest, and finally his head. Swimming backwards towards him, Nabirye nudged him gently in the shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, “I’m getting tired, and I need to go home soon.”

Khamun turned his head and sleepily looked at Nabirye. “Ok, I need to ask you something first.”

Flipping over, Nabirye nodded, now floating vertically in the water. “Yeah?”

“Ank…” He shook his head. “Ankhesenamun wants to meet you.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “She does?”

“Yep,” he said. “So, we were wondering if you would like to come for lunch tomorrow?”

“Me? Come to lunch? At the palace?” Nabirye asked, delighted surprise forming her expression.

Khamun grinned, nodding his head. “Yes you…yes lunch…and yes at the palace,” he said. “So…what do you say?”

“I’d love to,” she said

“Excellent, I’ll come get you a little before noon tomorrow, ok?”

Nabirye nodded her head, excitement sprinting across her face. “Ok.”

With a quick nod of his head, Khamun flipped on to his belly and began swimming back to the shore. Nabirye followed him, her pace slightly slower as she plunged herself into her thoughts.

In the late afternoon, the workers in the fields worked diligently, harvesting the wheat. Having just begun a week ago, and having acres and acres of crops to harvest, they had just barely made a dent in the rows and rows of wheat stalks making up the fields. Azibo, standing by himself between two rows of wheat, his mud incrusted bare feet sinking into the soft earth, frowned as he carefully fingered a deep green leaf from one of the stalks. Two wrinkled, yet nimble fingers, deftly plucked a fat greenish yellow worm from the leaf he had been scrutinizing. Frowning, Azibo dropped the worm to the ground, squished it with the heel of his right foot, and moved a couple feet down the row.

“Damn it!” he swore, plucking three plump worms from the leaves of another stalk of wheat, dropping them to the dirt, and smashing them, their gushy insides squirting out from beneath Azibo’s calloused heel.

Turning on his heel, Azibo moved as quickly as possible down the row, turning when he reached the end and continuing through the field until he reached the group of slaves steadily working to harvest the wheat.

“Madu,” he shouted to the general mass of workers.

A tall and muscular man stood at Azibo’s shout several rows away. “Yes Azibo!”

Azibo beckoned Madu to him with a wave of his hand, and the tall slave quickly moved to stand before Azibo.

“We have a problem,” Azibo said once Madu stood before him, beginning to walk to the rows he had been inspecting earlier.

“What is it?” he asked, walking alongside Azibo.

“We have a worm infestation.” Turning down an aisle, Azibo halted a few paces in, grabbed a leaf, partially eaten through, and held it up for Madu to see.

Five smaller worms lay attached to the leaf, systematically eating it from the outside in. Madu swore and turned around, examining a few leaves on the stalks behind him, and finding worms on all.

“I need you to put together a small group of your men and woman to scour through all the fields,” Azibo said. “I want to know how much of our wheat is infested with worms.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Madu said, nodding his head.

Nabirye walked beside Khamun as they approached the palace. Never having seen where Khamun lived, she moved unconsciously as awe filled her senses.

The palace sat on the southern banks of the Nile River. Made from limestone bricks, the entire structure gleamed in the sunlight, and wooden framed windows sat at even intervals along the walls. Multicolored stone bricks of alternating brown, tan, and beige created a winding front walkway up to the stairs leading to the front door. Palm trees and bright purple flowers bordered the walkway. As Nabirye followed Khamun, a gentle wind rustled the leaves and petals of said flowers, carrying a gentle, sweet scent to her nose.

Climbing the few stairs, Khamun led Nabirye across a small front veranda and towards the front door. She quickly took in the décor of the veranda as Khamun opened the door. Along the edge, several skinny pillars, painted in fat stripes of brown and beige, supported the roof above. At each corner, a potted plant sat, several with blooming flowers. Next to the door, a wooden bench sat, a papyrus scroll half unrolled sitting upon it that somebody had left outside.

Leaving the front veranda and entering the palace, Khamun closed the door behind him and led Nabirye down a hallway, windows set into the wall letting in sunshine, giving the hallway a cheery appearance.

“Wow,” she said breathily, taking in everything around her. “So, this is where you live?”

Khamun smiled, enjoying the awe and wonderment in her voice. “It is.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He nodded and knocked politely on a closed door in the middle of the hallway. A soft voice from within beckoned, and Khamun opened the door, guiding Nabirye through with her hand encased in his. A young woman sat in a chair by the window, studying something written on a scroll in her lap. At Khamun’s entrance, she looked up, smiled brightly, and stood, abandoning the scroll on the chair.

“Ank,” Khamun said, grabbing the young woman’s hand, “this is Nabirye. Nabirye, this is Ankhesenamun.”

Beaming, Ankhesenamun rushed forward, grabbing Nabirye’s hands in her own. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she gushed. “Khamun’s told me so much about you.”

A little astonished at the queen’s forwardness, Nabirye blushed and nodded her head respectfully. “It’s an honor to meet you too.”

“I’ll be right back,” Khamun said, resting his hand on Ankhesenamun’s back and directing his gaze back and forth between her and Nabirye. “I’m going to check on lunch.”

Ankhesenamun nodded as Khamun left the small room. When it was just Nabirye and Ankhesenamun, Ankhesenamun turned towards Nabirye, grinning. “Have you ever seen the Cairo Calendar?”

She shook her head. “No, what is it?”

Leading Nabirye by the hand to a small table next to the window, Ankhesenamun sat in the chair under the window, indicating Nabirye should take the chair across from her with her hand. On the table, a fat scroll laid open, both ends weighed down with small stone statues of Abyssinian cats, their large ears cocked attentively atop their head. Nabirye leaned on the edge of the table, peering curiously at the papyrus. On the papyrus, a large circle was drawn, taking up nearly the entire piece of papyrus. Two smaller concentric lay within the larger circle. Lines, radiating from the center, divided the three concentric circles into thirty even wedges with three sections to each wedge. Within each section, tiny hieroglyphs were written in black ink.

“It’s an astrology tool,” Ankhesenamun explained, “used to predict what day-to-day life will be like.”

Nabirye nodded and Ankhesenamun continued.

“This is the calendar for the first month of Shemu, and each of these wedges represents one day out of the month.”

“Neat,” Nabirye said, “where’s today?”

Ankhesenamun ran her finger lightly around the circle, coming to a stop halfway through the circle. “Right here,” she said, pointing.

Nabirye studied the wedge representing the current day. “What does it say about today?”

Tilting her head, Ankhesenamun read the tiny inscriptions. “Today is supposed to be unfavorable…and…it’s a hard day for the crops…and…it advises to stay out of the fields,” she finished, glancing up at Nabirye.

A shy smile grew on Nabirye’s lips. “I guess it’s a good thing we’re not farmers then,” she said.

Laughing, Ankhesenamun agreed whole heartedly, and quickly stopped as a fit of coughing streaked through her. Nabirye, not expecting this quick change in the queen, remained frozen, where she stood for a brief moment before tentatively approaching Ankhesenamun.

“Are you ok?” she asked, leaning over, trying to peer at Ankhesenamun’s bright red face.

Nodding her head as the coughing subsided, Ankhesenamun straightened up, a tinge pale, and smiled brightly at Nabirye. Running her hand over her mouth, Ankhesenamun politely excused herself a moment later. Watching the queen’s hasty retreat, Nabirye frowned and stared at the table in thought. However, her frown only deepened as she spotted dark colored moisture speckling the light colored wood. Running her fingers over the spots and looking at them, her eyes widened as they came away streaked with blood.

“Where’d Ank go?” Khamun entered the room, walking up to Nabirye quickly and looking at her red streaked fingers. “Is that blood?” he asked, grabbing her wrist.

“Ankhesenamun she…when we were looking at the Cairo Calendar…she started coughing…” Nabirye said, trailing off at the end.

She glanced up, when Khamun remained silent, and frowned at seeing his troubled and concerned expression. Nabirye placed a tentative hand upon his arm. “What is it? Khamun…what’s wrong?”

He glanced up, his black eyes staring in to her brown ones. “We were having lunch the other day when she started coughing. She quickly hid her hands under the table afterwards, but I swore I saw blood like that,” he indicated her hand with his head, “on her hands.”

“What…what does this mean?” she asked, fearful, yet knowing, of the answer.

Sighing, Khamun stared at the doorway. “She’s sick.” He swallowed. “And it’s not just a cold.”

Nabirye watched sadly as Khamun’s normally chipper attitude dropped several notches. She dropped her hand, still resting on his arm, to his own warm hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Then, the door opened and Ankhesenamun walked in.

“Lunch is ready,” she announced.

Both staring up wide-eyed at her simultaneously, Ankhesenamun cocked her head to the side. “Is everything ok?” she asked.

Khamun stayed silent for a moment before an almost too bright smile crossed his lips. “Yes, everything’s fine,” he said. “Let’s go eat.”

Lunch had been an elaborate affair consisting of an array of meats, sauces, cheeses, breads, and fruits, which Nabirye enjoyed entirely. When it ended, and the table was cleared by palace servants, Nabirye, Khamun, and Ankhesenamun remained sitting around the table in amicable silence.

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather,” Ankhesenamun said after a few moments. “I’m going to go lie down. It was wonderful meeting you, Nabirye,” she said, standing from the table.

Khamun looked up, putting a smile on his face. “All right Ank, feel better.”

Smiling and nodding a farewell, she left the small terrace where they sat. From across the narrow expanse of tiled terrace, Nabirye spotted a small table, a box with what looked like game pieces scattered about. In an attempt to satisfy her curiosity and distract Khamun, she grabbed his hand and pointed to the table.

“What’s that over there?” she asked.

Successfully distracted, Khamun looked where Nabirye pointed, stood from the table, grabbed her hand, and dragged her over to the table.

“Have you ever played Senet?” he asked, sitting down at the table.

Nabirye sat in the other chair, looking at the game before her. “No,” she said, shaking her head.

“Would you like to learn?” he asked.

Surveying the game board and pieces, she nodded. “Sure.”

“Ok,” Khamun began. “This is the game board.” He wiped old game pieces off the game board and straightened it slightly. The board consisted of thirty black squares, ten across and three down. In the middle row, there was one yellow square, and the square directly below the yellow square was also colored yellow with the square to the right of it being blue. “This is start,” he said, pointing to the upper left hand corner of the board, “and this is the finish.” His finger specified the lower right hand square.

“What do the blue and yellow squares mean?” Nabirye asked.

“This one,” he said, pointing to the yellow square in the middle row, “is a safety square. If you land on it, you can’t be bumped. If you land on the other yellow square, you get to toss the sticks again.” He pointed to the yellow square below the first, and then moved his finger one square to the left, the blue square. “Now, if you land on the blue square, you die and have to move back to the beginning.”

“Ok, I got it,” Nabirye said, nodding her head.

“All right, these are the game pieces.” He brushed ten small clay pieces off the table and into his hand, redepositing them in the middle of the game board. “Would you like to be red or green?”

“Green,” she said, and Khamun dropped five green cones shaped pieces into her hand and scooped up the five red round pieces for himself.

“Ok, we start off the board, before the start square,” Khamun said, lining up his five little round pieces at the top of the board while Nabirye did the same with her five green cones. “Now, to get on the board, you have to throw either a four or a six. You can go first.”

He slid six short sticks over to Nabirye. Each stick had one side painted black while the other side was painted white. Picking up the sticks, Nabirye threw them and five white sides showed up and she looked up questioningly at Khamun.

“Do I keep throwing until I get a four or six?”

When he nodded, she threw again, getting a one. Four throws later, Nabirye finally got a four, moving one of her pieces four spaces. Handing the sticks off to Khamun, he threw them, getting a four on his second try.

“What happens now?” she asked right after he threw the four.

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking up from choosing a piece to move.

“Well, I’m on the square you’re moving to.”

“Oh,” he said. “I bump you, so you have to move back to the start.”

“Oh poop,” she said, placing her piece with the others.

“Your turn,” he said, smiling and handing her the sticks.

An hour later, Khamun had three pieces past the finish, one in the middle row, and one piece a single square away from the finish; while Nabirye had two pieces past the finish, two pieces in the middle row, and one piece two squares from the finish. Grabbing the sticks, she rolled, and moved one of her middle row pieces five squares forward, and passed the sticks to Khamun.

“I’m totally gonna beat you,” he taunted in a friendly manner and threw the sticks, and moved his piece the one square to the finish.

“What makes you say that?” Nabirye asked, taking the sticks from Khamun and throwing them.

“I’ve got four pieces past the finish,” he said as Nabirye moved one of her pieces one space closer to the finish.

“So? I’ve almost got three,” she said, pointing to the small cone she just moved to the square before the finish.

Khamun threw the sticks, throwing a five. “And I just moved my last piece into the third row.”

“So?” she said, moving one of her piece three spaces ahead.

“It’s my last piece on the board.”

Khamun threw the sticks, throwing a three.

“Oh ho ho!” Nabirye said, pointing tauntingly at Khamun’s piece that just landed on the blue square. “Now that piece is back to the beginning. Admit it Khamun,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m going to win.”

“Psh,” he said, nodding to the sticks cast down on the table. “Throw your sticks.”

Nabirye threw them, moving one of her pieces five spaces ahead. A four, Khamun threw next, placing his piece back on the board. Back and forth they played, exchanging taunts until all but two pieces had been removed from the board.

Picking up the sticks, Nabirye glanced at Khamun, a smug look on her face. “You’re about to be beat by a girl.”

“Shut it and throw,” he said, nodding his head at the sticks in her hands. She moved ahead one space, and handed off the sticks to Khamun, who threw a two. Looking two spaces ahead on the board, Khamun grinned impishly.

“Hah!” he shouted, standing up quickly from his chair, pointing at Nabirye, smug satisfaction written on his face. “You get bumped to the beginning.”

Pursing her lips together, she slid her piece to the beginning, throwing the sticks as she sent Khamun a fiery glare. Back on the board with a six, she handed the sticks back to Khamun. Landing a five, he stayed put since his last piece sat one square from the finish. Nabirye threw the sticks, getting a six and slid her piece six spaced forward on the board, sending Khamun a smirk. For several turns, Khamun remained frozen in the same place for he never threw a one, Nabirye edging closer and closer to the finish with each throw she cast. Finally, after she threw two consecutive sixes, Khamun scooped up the sticks, blowing on them for good luck, and sent Nabirye a knowing look. Nabirye, sitting back with her arms crossed, didn’t buy his haughty look and nodded her head, telling him to throw the sticks already. Throwing them, all but one landed up black, leaving one white stick sitting up on the table. Blinking a few times fast, a slow and satisfied smile spread across his face as he moved his final piece across the finish.

“I win!” He shouted, punching both fists in to the air.

Still sitting with her arms crossed, Nabirye stared at the young man celebrating across from her. “I call a rematch,” she announced.

Pausing in his victory dance, Khamun stared at Nabirye for a moment before sitting back down in his chair. “You’re on!”

Throughout the afternoon they played until the sun began its slow decent. By their fourth game, Nabirye and Khamun had won equal times, and Nabirye was due to be home.

“I need to get back,” she said, helping Khamun clean up the game table.

He nodded. “Ok.”

Once all the pieces were packed away, Khamun began walking Nabirye out of the palace. As the reached the front door, he froze. “I forgot something,” he said, taking off down the hallway. “I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, Nabirye stood alone in the front hallway scuffing her foot across the tiles. Moments later, Khamun returned, something tucked in his hand.

Holding out his hand, he opened it, revealing a string of blue and green beads. “I went back to the temple the other day to look for this.”

Slowly, Nabirye’s mouth opened in a silent expression of shock. Taking a small step forward, she picked the necklace up with two fingers of one hand, using the other to lay the necklace in. With tears brimming in her eyes, Nabirye glanced up at Khamun, her mouth opening and closing several times, trying to get words out.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “I know how much it meant to you.”

Smiling, she gazed at the string of beads for a second before launching herself at Khamun. Taken aback at having his arms suddenly full of Nabirye, Khamun paused for a moment before wrapping his arms around her tiny waist.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she repeated over and over.

“You're welcome,” he said, his right hand tangled in her mop of black, wavy hair.

At the end of the day, Azibo stood before the door to Lord Atsu’s study. Raising his hand and making a fist, he rapped three times upon the door.

“Enter,” the deep voice within ordered.

Opening and closing the door, Azibo waited respectfully quiet for Lord Atsu to beckon him to his desk. When a hand absentmindedly waved him over, Azibo nervously approached the desk, not wanting to relay the information he had; yet knowing it had to be done.

“Sir,” Azibo bowed slightly. “There’s bad news regarding the wheat.”

The scroll Lord Atsu had previously been reading dropped to the desk. Deep black eyes quickly attached themselves to the elderly man standing before the desk.

“What sort of bad news?” Lord Atsu asked, his tone drowning in trepidation.

“We have a worm infestation, sir.”

Closing his eyes, Lord Atsu took a deep breath. “How bad.”

“We lost seventy five percent of this season’s yield.”