Flail of the Pharoah by Rosanna Challis

he was the one who had been more directly wounded by her reckless words.
    Kiya bent her knee with a surly look of disdain, holding her head high instead of lowering it in the presence of her queen, as was the custom. Mira took a deep breath to prevent herself from losing control. In a calm and measured tone, she interrogated the girl.
    ‘My son, the Crown Prince Neshi, claims you have insulted both him and myself. How do you answer this accusation?’
    She remained silent, so Mira repeated, ‘How do you answer this accusation?’
    Kiya shrugged. ‘Whatever I say will not be believed. Think what you like.’
    It was hard to believe the girl was prepared to put herself in jeopardy like this. Mira was unsure what to do about it. If she would not confess to her crime, how should she proceed? She began to wish she had handed her over to the king’s justice. He would know what to do.
    The queen turned to her son. ‘Were there any witnesses, Neshi?’
    He shook his head. ‘The girl was cunning and chose a quiet corner where we would neither be seen nor overheard.’
    ‘Then I must take your word for it. You are the Crown Prince of Egypt, and your word is sacrosanct. To you, the representative on earth of the great Horus, is given the duty of divine retribution.’ She turned back to Kiya. ‘On your feet, girl!’
    An audible sigh issued from the girl as she slowly heaved her body into an upright position, her eyes glazed with indifference. Mira had been thinking of decreeing six lashes, but this continuing attitude of defiance hardened her heart.
    ‘Foul deeds and words directed against a Crown Prince of Egypt and, by inference, against the Queen Mother, carries a severe penalty.’ She paused, her eyes searching the miscreant’s face for any sign of repentance, but there was none. ‘You are fortunate indeed that Prince Neshi brought this matter to my attention, instead of to the Pharaoh’s. He would not have been so lenient.’
    Mira glanced at Charmian. She was still sitting on the sidelines with her hands clasped in her lap, but she now looked quite frightened. That was just as well; this lesson would be striking home.
    ‘In view of the severity of the offence, and your refusal to admit to the crime, I sentence you to twelve lashes, administered by the crown prince himself.’
    There was a gasp from Charmian, but Kiya remained unmoved. Deciding that she needed to appear fair and compassionate, Mira added, ‘I will give you one more chance to confess to your crime, in which case your sentence shall be reduced to six lashes.’
    Neshi stepped up to the woman and confronted her. ‘Confess!’ he snapped. ‘You know what you said and did, you and me both! Make it easier on yourself.’
    It was astonishing how obdurate these Nubian slaves could be. While Mira marvelled at her stubborn will a niggling doubt persisted that Neshi might, after all, have invented this whole scenario for some gratification of his own. Still, it was too late to back out now.
    ‘Very well, the sentence must stand.’ She beckoned to Iras, who was also looking on nervously. ‘Fetch the Flail of Correction for Prince Neshi.’
    Iras hurried off into the antechamber, eager to perform her mistress’s command in case she too should be found wanting. Mira resumed her seat on the couch, next to Charmian. Her work was done. Now she must hand over to her son. He lounged against a pillar with a satisfied look, his eyes unashamedly feasting on the sight of the humbled slave girl. Kiya stood perfectly still, gazing at the back wall with an impassive expression.
    In a few seconds Iras returned with the implement. The Flail of Correction differed from that used for ceremonial purposes which was made of gold and elaborately decorated, being one of the Pharaoh’s badges of office. This flail was nearer to the practical kind used on some Egyptian threshing floors, to separate the wheat kernels from the husks. Five leather thongs hung from a stout wooden