Only The Beginning
By
Christine Hall
Title: Only the Beginning
Author: Christina Hall, aka Trillium
Rating: R for violence, sexual situations, and the usual bad attitudes
Special thanks to Kao Vang for editing and many good suggestions
Disclaimer: The Mummy and the characters therein are the property of
Universal Studios.
No infringement intended. I am making no money off of
this.
Chapter 7
Imhotep had not looked at Anak-sun-amun during the whole time he was
in the throne room giving his report. She understood why, of course- it was
vital that they not cause suspicion- but it broke her heart to see him
indifferent to her like that. After Pharaoh dismissed him he had left the
hall, his pace almost a trudge, and Anak-sun-amun stole surreptitious
glances at his tall figure until he was out of sight. Then, suddenly, her
attention was diverted when the Pharaoh called out to her from his throne.
"Anak-sun-amun!" Obediently but not quite sure what to expect she
went to his side. "I would like..." Suddenly the slave who had been
fanning the Pharaoh took an unfortunate step backward, bumping into
Anak-sun-amun. Pharaoh's nonchalant expression turned to anger, and the
slave, understandably, looked terrified, trying to stammer out an apology.
"How dare you touch her?" thundered the Pharaoh.
"My lord, it was nothing, only an accident..." protested
Anak-sun-amun, but Pharaoh was not going to be swayed. He signaled to the
Med-jai who were always close by, and two of them advanced on the slave.
The unfortunate man tried to bolt down the stairs from the dais, but the
guards were upon him like hungry leopards, grabbing him roughly by the arms
and hauling him back before the throne. Anak-sun-amun stood stupefied at
the corner of the dais. "My lord, it was an accident, and I've come to no
harm," she tried again, unwilling to see the slave punished because of her
clumsiness. She had not really been looking at where she was going.
Pharaoh continued to ignore her. The captured man was crying now,
clearly in fear for his life. She drew herself up and spoke louder.
"My lord, you yourself have hurt me much more than this."
Silence suddenly reigned in the throne room. Pharaoh turned his
head slowly toward her, his expression one of righteous indignation. "What
did you say?"
"I said it was nothing, my lord, compared to what you have done to
me. Or don't you remember the night of the last feast you gave?"
"Insolent!" he yelled, the veins in his forehead standing out in his
anger like pulsing snakes. He turned to the Med-jai who were not occupied
with the prisoner. "Take Anak-sun-amun to her quarters. You have my
permission to touch her if she does not cooperate. Instruct her maids that
henceforth, starting today, she is to be painted every day, even when she is
not leaving the palace." Without a word the two Med-jai took their places
on either side of Anak-sun-amun. She stood still, stunned by the impact of
those words. That meant that even if Imhotep was in the palace...
"And as for this worm..." continued the Pharaoh. "Finish him."
Anak-sun-amun gasped and quickly turned and hurried out of the room
before the Med-jai could force her to do so, as if her quick steps could
block the pleas for mercy coming from the doomed slave. Even out of hearing
range of the throne room, she continued to almost run, fleeing from the
scene she had just witnessed, the Med-jai keeping up with her but just
slightly behind.
When she reached the women's quarters she ignored the maid carefully
sweeping the floor of the outer room and went straight into her bedchamber.
Through the door she heard the Med-jai giving the maid Pharaoh's
instructions, and her wide-eyed response.
When the two men had gone, Anak-sun-amun put her ear to the door and
listened. Hearing no voices, she concluded that that one maid must be the
only one here right now. Good. She went out into the main room. She had
an idea, and was not at all sure it would work, but it was better than
taking Pharaoh's new orders lying down. Something had to be done.
"Fetch a scribe, but do not tell anyone else." she ordered, pacing
the room. It was impossible to stand still.
"My lady, do you think we should..." the maid's voice trailed off as
she pointed to the bathing room, where the brushes and jars of paint stood
on the shelves.
"Soon enough, but first do what I say. I would like him to write a
letter for me."
"Is that wise..." began the maid again, but fell silent when she saw
Anak-sun-amun's angry expression. Murmuring an apology, she left the room,
returning impossibly quickly with two other women in tow and the scribe, as
ordered. He was a young, naive looking man, and that was all to the good.
He readied his things and sat on the floor cross-legged as Anak-sun-amun
continued to pace, irritably shrugging off the servants when they tried to
get her to sit down. The soft slap of her sandals on the floor seemed an
inadequate expression of the anger and disappointment she was feeling.
"Go into the next room," she ordered the women. They did nothing,
merely stared at her, unsure what course of action to take.
"Go!" she commanded impatiently. "The letter I am about to send may
not please his Majesty, so it is better if you do not hear it." The three
exchanged glances and left, but Anak-sun-amun knew they would not go far.
Then she turned to the nervous scribe. After another moment of getting her
thoughts together, she began to dictate, pacing all the while, the scribe's
pen scribbling in reaction.
Greetings to my dearest and most honored father, Nefer-ka-re, Baron
of Amenthis. It is my hope that the gods continue to smile on you in all
your endeavors, and also upon my mother, sisters, and brothers. I must
inform you, however, that I am unhappy at the royal court. Since I am in
favor with his Majesty the Pharaoh, some of the other women are jealous of
me, and they make my life unbearable. The affections of His Majesty, while
sweet, are not enough to make up for it. The city air itself does not agree
with me, and I long for the fresh scents of the fields around Amenthis. I
entreat you a thousand times to ask Pharaoh to allow me to return home, if
only for a short time. Say to him that my mother and sisters miss me
dearly, but do not mention this letter, for I do not wish His Majesty to
know that I am unhappy. I beg of you to do me this favor, for I fear I
shall soon die if I remain much longer in Thebes. I remain always your
obedient and faithful daughter, Anak-sun-amun.
She continued to walk the floor, as the scribe piped up nervously
"Pardon me for asking, lady, but...you are from Amenthis?"
"Yes," she answered shortly, not in the mood for small talk.
"I am also, lady," he continued hesitantly, rolling the papyrus and
writing the recipient's name on the outside.
"Really," she turned to him, mildly interested. He could be useful.
"What is your name?"
"Anurith, lady."
"I need a messenger to take the letter. Do you know anyone who is
going that way soon?"
"Yes, in fact...I will be. I've been given leave to visit my family
there. I leave tomorrow."
"Excellent. Here, take this." She took a bracelet off her arm,
heavy gold studded with blue lapis. It was worth more than a junior scribe
like Anurith could hope to make in a year. His eyes bulged, astounded, but
he made no move to touch it.
"Take it," she insisted. "It is worth it to me to have the letter
delivered safely." Anurith put out his hand and touched the bracelet
gingerly, as if it might disintegrate under his fingers. Tired of his
timidity, Anak-sun-amun took his hand and pressed the bracelet into it,
folding his fingers over the metal. Anurith shrank from her touch, for he
knew it was forbidden, but at least he held onto the bracelet. "And keep
silence on this matter," Anak-sun-amun added, sternly. "If His Majesty
should ask you directly, you may tell him of it, but otherwise, say
nothing."
"I will not. Thank you, my lady," he stammered, staring at the
gorgeous item in his hand.
"If you do your task properly, I will be the one who should thank
you." Anak-sun-amun softened her tone a bit, not wishing to frighten the
boy out of his wits. "Come, seal the scroll so that I may stamp it," she
prompted, taking off her ring to do just that. Anurith obeyed, and then
left the room with the letter, clutching the bracelet so hard his knuckles
were white.
Anak-sun-amun stood for a moment, staring at the now closed door.
The letter was a pack of lies, of course. Well, she was certainly unhappy
at the palace, though for totally different reasons than she had indicated.
There had been some jealousy, but those were isolated incidents, and mainly
confined to Tuya, Pharaoh's previous favorite. To most of the women, she
had realized, she was only the latest in Seti's long line of passing
fancies, not worth wasting energy on, as she would be supplanted soon
enough. And the very idea of calling Pharaoh's affections "sweet"! They
were anything but that, empty and hollow compared to Imhotep's heartfelt
passion. She had had slight qualms about deceiving her family like this,
but quickly brushed them off. If the letter achieved her objective, getting
her away from the palace, that would justify the means. If she and Imhotep
were going to be together, this was the most important step. Once out from
under Pharaoh's thumb, in the safety and relative freedom of her father's
household in Amenthis, she could find a way to communicate with Imhotep, and
they would figure out the rest of the details.
But now there was nothing else to be done until she had an answer to
the letter. Sighing in resignation, Anak-sun-amun called the servants back
in. The four women went together into the bathing room, where Anak-sun-amun
stripped off her clothes and surrendered herself meekly to their brushes.
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