The God’s Wife

The God’s Wife By Lena Austin

The God’s Wives were a group of noblewomen sworn to protect and serve Egypt by any means, be it assassination, sorcery, money, or sex. Raised from infancy to be the wife of Pharaoh, Hati knew her duty. She would win the Pharaoh’s heart, mind meld with him, produce his children, and rule beside him as the wife of the Living God. But when Pharaoh dies, pregnant Hati must rule alone as Regent-Queen, protecting the Empire for her unborn child and another child of Pharaoh carried by a concubine.

When the disinherited brother of the dead Pharaoh arrives, claiming to be the true heir since no woman has the ability to rule an Empire, Hati must prove her worth and do more than simply be Regent-Queen. She must shave her hair, dress as a man, and become Pharaoh Hatshepsut, the first woman Pharaoh of Egypt. It will take all the might, muscle, sorcery, and deviousness of the God’s Wives and their allies to keep Hati on the throne long enough for the true heir of Pharaoh to be born.

Note: The God’s Wife contains a brief homosexual male interlude.

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An Excerpt From: THE GOD’S WIFE
© Copyright LENA AUSTIN, 2005.
All Rights Reserved, Cerridwen Press, Inc.

Thebes, Ancient Egypt c.1438 BCE

Senmut rushed as fast as dignity would allow toward the royal apartment complex in the palace. “A royal summons! Thoth’s Feathers, what now?” His hands clutched the scribe’s tablets that denoted his office as one of the many royal scribes that populated the palace and kept the kingdom of Tutmose II running like clockwork. What could any of the royal household want with a lowly scribe? This place was dangerous for an unwed and common ex-soldier. He had done nothing to warrant any trouble. He wished briefly he were back in the desert where work was hard and life simple.

He took no notice of the royal handmaidens and servants who rushed past on their own errands. They, however, took notice of the well-displayed muscles interplaying through his body as he ran. He wore only a few linens to cover his lower body. “Mmm…”purred one handmaiden as she missed pouring date wine into a goblet, “Now which of the royal wives will enjoy the pleasure of looking at that?” A small slap on the arm reminded her of her duties, but did not wipe the smile off her face.

Her compatriot mopped up the spill and chuckled. “That’s the scribe Senmut. The one who was a soldier before turning priest-scribe. He’s worked with the Master Builder for two flood seasons. Enjoy the view while you can.” Even she could not resist a small sigh of longing. “ No doubt he’ll be back working at the mortuary temple before long. I was there when he brought the latest papyri of the hieroglyphs last night to the pharaoh.”

“Then what’s he doing here among the women, I will ask you?”

Senmut heard nothing of this. He was already at the door of the antechamber, and the guards were opening the great doors to let him in. The tinkling of tiny bells against metal and giggling warned him this was a dancer’s antechamber. He must be especially careful of his thoughts before they translated to his linens. No doubt, preparations were already underway for the feast tonight, where a new bride for pharaoh was to be presented for his approval.

“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.

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 as a common soldier at the southern gates with Nubia. Senmut gulped and tried to think of something intelligent to say. “Um, I like that costume you’re almost wearing.”

Hati laughed, a cross between chuckle and giggle. He remembered the sound well. “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. There were plenty of charms to view. Never a tall child, she was still 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 that used to issue taunts were now full and tempting. The whole package was an invitation to the kind of impropriety that got a man killed without mercy. “I never dreamed I would get a costume like this when I told you I would 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 you would dance before the pharaoh and become his wife. I did not believe you then.”

Hati was not offended 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 horrid tasting beer.” Her eyes twinkled merrily.

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 can 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. She flowed effortlessly into positions that made Senmut’s muscles ache in sympathy. He shifted his scribe’s tablet lower, and drank deeply of the bitter brew.

“Enough! Have mercy on an unmarried scribe!” You sorceresses of the God’s Wives make any man hard, 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 Hati needed no such aids to make a man look on her with desire.

* * * * *

Hati flowed up from the dancer’s 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 use. It was cruel to continue her freshly concocted test on her old friend.

Her childhood friend stood at rigid attention, his tablets covering the front of his linens. His face mirrored his attempt to reconcile the little girl he knew with the woman who now stood in front of him. He was honorable enough to try to keep his eyes trained on her face, not her body.

But where else could she test her skills? The eunuched guards, who even now stood stone-faced around the room? She couldn’t call 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 by the unscrupulous that might not recognize her true rank and think her a lowly dancer. She was sorry for making him suffer so, and promised herself she’d see to it that his health was maintained by sending him one of her maids later. No doubt, she’d get a volunteer or two, since he was very well formed. Her face fell into the soft lines of contrition.

“I am 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. I have missed you so! No one else plays as well as you.”

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