The God's Wife

The God's Wife
Second Edition
Lena Austin
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Lena Austin

“Senmut!” shrieked a young girl’s voice. “You came!”

Without warning, Senmut found his arms full of a beautiful dancer in nearly full panoply. Even the perfume cone was already on her head, filling his nostrils with the delightful scent of expensive oils. He prayed for fortitude and unwound the girl’s arms from around his neck so he could see who she was, before his body betrayed him.

The tiny imp in front of him turned a full circle to show off what little there was of her costume before facing him with a grin. Only then did recognition dawn.

“Hati?” he gasped in wonderment. His childhood friend had grown to full womanhood in the space of the few years he’d been away in the army, serving at the southern gates with Nubia. Senmut gulped and tried to think of something intelligent to say. “Um, I like that costume you are almost wearing.”

Hati laughed, the sound a cross between a chuckle and giggle he remembered. “Isn’t it something?” She wiggled and pranced a moment while

Senmut stared. The costume was little more than golden chains and baubles, and not a scrap of linen to hide her charms. And there were plenty of charms to view. Never a tall child, she was still fairly short, but the once-flat chest was now full and lush. Long, streamlined muscles bespoke of the many years of physical training. The face was the only constant, with slashing cheekbones and the slanted, otherworldly eyes of the Egyptian nobility. Those lips he knew well for taunting him were full and tempting. The whole package was an invitation to the kind of impropriety that would get a man killed without mercy.

“I never dreamed I’d get a costume like this when I told you I’d dance before my cousin the Pharaoh to win his heart… or at least his lust,” she added, winking.

Senmut barely remembered that long ago conversation over a game of mehen, the snake game. “Yes, you said you were training to be a God’s Wife in the temple, and that you would dance before the Pharaoh and become his wife. I didn’t believe you then.”

Hati was unoffended by his childhood skepticism. She laughed as she walked over to a pitcher of plain beer and offered him some. “I remember your commoner tastes. See? Here’s your nasty old beer,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Now it was Senmut’s turn to laugh. It was an old game between them and distracted him away from her changed physical appearance. He pretended to snatch the cup from her hands with a frown, and then retorted, “Give me beer, bread, and salt and I’ll work a full day. You, royal one, with your rich foods and date wines will be fat and drunk long before that.”

“Hah! Royal family I may be, but do I look fat and drunk to you?” Hati performed the nearly impossible moves of a dancer, seeming to flow effortlessly into positions that made Senmut’s muscles ache nearly as much as his groin. He shifted his scribe’s tablet lower and drank deeply of the bitter brew.

“Enough! Have mercy on an unmarried scribe!” he cried. “You sorceresses of the God’s Wives would make any man ache, as you well know.” He looked at his beer in mock suspicion, as if she might have put any one of the many aphrodisiacs known to the women of the God’s Wives in his goblet. It dawned on him that Hati needed no such aides to make a man look on her with desire.

* * *

Hati flowed up from a singularly impossible pose like water, and grinned mockingly at him. She was quite well aware of the effect she had on men, since she had been trained in its ruthless uses. It was cruel to continue the test she had concocted on her old friend. But where else would she have tested her skills? The eunuched guards, who even now stood stone-faced around the room? She could not have called for any minor official of the court.

Only in Senmut did she have a legitimate excuse to see a full male without arousing suspicion or chancing a rape. She was sorry for making him suffer so, and promised herself she would see to it that his health was maintained by sending him one of her maids later. No doubt she would have a volunteer or two, since he was very well formed. Her face fell into the soft lines of contrition. “I’m sorry to tease you so, Senmut. Let me go put on a linen robe, and then we can have a game of mehen for old times’ sake.”

* * *

She turned and ran from the room, never realizing that Senmut enjoyed that last view of her round, heart-shaped rump with a sigh.

“Have some more beer, Commander,” came a quiet whisper from one of the guards near the door. “It won’t ease the ache, but at least your mouth won’t be dry,” came more advice from the same source.