Читать книгу Caught - Kristin Hardy - Страница 6

Thanks to Pamela Hatchfield, conservator, and

Rita Freed, curator of Egyptian art,

Boston Museum of Fine Arts;

and to Robert Burnham,

editor of the Napoleon Series.

The Legend Continues

The drums and cymbals sounded. The heavy, musky scent of incense filled the air. Despite the heat outside, the Hall of A Thousand Pillars remained cool with its heavy stone roof and carved columns. It was the Naming Day.

Batu walked along behind her older sister Anan, slowly, matching the pace of her footsteps to the beat of the drums. The cloth of Anan’s garments shone white in the flickering torchlight; the gold-and-colored-stone bracelets on her arms gleamed.

Anan had to be exhausted, Batu knew, thinking of the week of ceremonial cleansing, the fasting, the prayers. That morning they’d risen before dawn to go through the rituals, the bathing, the adornments, the dressing of Anan’s hair with precious pearls, brought from afar.

It was not every day the ruler of the kingdom was promised her consort.

A throng packed the Hall of A Thousand Pillars, waiting to see the shape of their future. For Anan was not to take merely a husband, but the man who would rule by her side, and from his strength would fl ow the prosperity and security of the realm.

Batu felt sympathy for her sister, for she knew that Anan’s duty was a difficult one. Hers was a life consecrated to the kingdom. How fearful it would be to be in her spot, left without choice, forced to marry the one the priests chose for her.

For Batu was in love.

As she walked, she stared at the dais ahead, at the rich, golden throne, so that she would not look to her side at the line of soldiers guarding their path, so that she would not meet the eyes of the one man she desired above all others.

Egmath. Even the whisper of his name in her thoughts felt like a stolen pleasure. Soon they would tell of their love, soon. But for now, it was theirs to savor, still new in its full flower. When they informed the priests and Anan, it would be a public thing; they would be held separate until they’d married.

And Batu did not think she could bear it.

From the corner of her eye she saw the gleam of the gold cuff around his upper arm. She saw the strong muscles of his chest, the proud carriage of his head. And her heart swelled at the knowledge that this warrior, this man of honor, was hers.

Batu couldn’t help it—her eyes fl icked toward him to meet his gaze. The rush of it stole her breath. It seemed hardly possible that the love she’d always felt for him had transformed into this tremendous emotion that took her over. This was not the simple affection of children for children.

This was the love of a woman and a man.

Batu followed Anan up the stairs to the dais and moved to stand behind the golden throne as her sister sat. From there, Batu could stare out into the hall, looking at the torchlight flickering off the richly colored pillars. Looking out at the throng that packed the hall.

Looking at Egmath.

On the steps stood Hortath, the eldest priest. At the foot of the dais stood Lagash, the leader of the army, with his soldiers arrayed beyond him. And Egmath by his side.

The music ended, and the silence of the hall was broken only by the rustling of the throng.

Hortath cleared his throat. “May all the gods of this land give strength and health to our ruler, Queen Anan. Let great joy and celebration mark this day, the day the Queen will stand before you with her consort, a great warrior to keep the realm safe and bring forth heirs.”

But it wasn’t Anan’s choice. The priests made the decision, as they did in so many things. Anan would find out at the same time as the rest of the kingdom. She would take Lagash, they’d speculated, though she bore him no love and he was two score harvests older than she. She would take him into her life, take him into her bed.

Batu ached for her sister.

Hortath raised his hands. “Let stand forth the consort whom the gods have chosen.” He waited a moment for silence. “Let stand forth Egmath.”

And the hall erupted with cheers.

Let stand forth Egmath. The impossible words reverberated in Batu’s head. She felt stunned, as though the knowledge held the force of a blow. It was impossible, unbearable. Egmath was hers, her destiny. But the priests wished to control his power and they’d sworn him to Anan.

At the foot of the dais Egmath looked frozen, unable to move. And she who knew him better than all, she who could read every nuance in his expression, saw pure agony in the liquid dark eyes. He looked at her and for a moment they locked eyes, not caring, finally, about the multitudes around them. For a moment, words, feelings flowed through his gaze.

My beloved…

My only…

My lost one…

My duty…

And Egmath stepped forward and strode up to the dais.

TO BE CONTINUED…