Goddess who governed the balance of light and dark – and her heart would weigh as nothing compared to a feather, unstained by darkness.
So far, she thought she could as she’d never killed in anger or in thoughtlessness. But after this? To knowingly take a man’s life, not through the accident of the ring but consciously, knowing what it was she did?
She couldn’t. It wasn’t in her. Honest battle, yes. Deliberate murder, no.
What could she do?
Nothing…
According to Egyptian law, if she took the life of another, her own would be forfeit, even if as a slave she was following her master’s orders. It was one of the questions in the Book of the Dead, when souls appeared before the Gods in judgment. Osiris or Anubis wouldn’t ask if her master had ordered it, only whether she’d done it...for the choice in the end was hers to make.
Yet, if she disobeyed, Kamenwati had the right to kill her in whatever manner he pleased. She’d heard tales of what went on below the stairs and the thought terrified her as nothing else did. She’d heard the cries and screams of a night, the wails of horror.
If it became known she was willingly killing in the ring, she would be brought before the judges. Before the eyes of the King, it would be seen as her hand that had done the deed, hers that held the sword…not Kamenwati’s.
It was her life, her honor, at stake.
Here only the Gods had more power than the King…Kamenwati’s cousin.
Only the Gods could save her now.
If they would take her…
As a favored slave she had some rights, some freedoms. She’d served faithfully for over a year. As distinctive as she was, everyone knew it would be difficult for her to escape, and the punishment for attempting it was severe. While she might have gained some distance if she traveled at night, she couldn’t flee Thebes easily. The desert was unknown to her.
If she tried to escape and failed? The punishment would be left to Kamenwati. She’d seen that as well, his lips peeled back from his teeth in a savage grin as he beat the slave to death for attempting to run away. She’d seen and felt the dark pleasure he’d taken in the task.
Now, though, she was willing to risk death to escape, as she risked it now anyway.
Wrapping her swords in an old slave-shift, she slipped out of Kamenwati’s compound, telling the gate guards she needed to take her swords to be sharpened. It wasn’t an unusual request and deemed too demeaning a task for the slave-master.
Her swords were the only things of value she owned of herself. What little else had come from Kamenwati or as gifts from those who bet on her. She couldn’t use them as an offering to the Gods.
The city of Thebes was only somewhat known to her. She’d learned the language but there had been few valid reasons for her to leave Kamenwati’s estate. She had, however, noted the locations of the temples of the Gods on her few excursions.
It had taken time for her to understand those Gods, although it turned out they hadn’t been so foreign as her own Gods had been much the same, if with different names.
She hadn’t much time, though, for if she took too long her absence would be noted. Her explanation would only hold for a brief time.
One temple in particular she sought, the red-washed walls distinctive among the others…
For only a moment, she looked behind her toward Kamenwati’s compound and then she stepped into the cool depths of the interior. A breeze moved softly around her, seemed almost to sweep her inside.
The priests and priestesses paused in their devotions as she stepped into the cool shadows within the temple.
Resolutely, aware of their eyes on her, she walked to the altar at the feet of the Goddess and laid her swords upon it in offering. She bowed as she looked up at the lion-headed Goddess under whose sigil she’d been born. Slowly, she sank to her knees and prostrated herself.
This was the warrior Goddess, Sekhmet. Surely she would understand…of all
So far, she thought she could as she’d never killed in anger or in thoughtlessness. But after this? To knowingly take a man’s life, not through the accident of the ring but consciously, knowing what it was she did?
She couldn’t. It wasn’t in her. Honest battle, yes. Deliberate murder, no.
What could she do?
Nothing…
According to Egyptian law, if she took the life of another, her own would be forfeit, even if as a slave she was following her master’s orders. It was one of the questions in the Book of the Dead, when souls appeared before the Gods in judgment. Osiris or Anubis wouldn’t ask if her master had ordered it, only whether she’d done it...for the choice in the end was hers to make.
Yet, if she disobeyed, Kamenwati had the right to kill her in whatever manner he pleased. She’d heard tales of what went on below the stairs and the thought terrified her as nothing else did. She’d heard the cries and screams of a night, the wails of horror.
If it became known she was willingly killing in the ring, she would be brought before the judges. Before the eyes of the King, it would be seen as her hand that had done the deed, hers that held the sword…not Kamenwati’s.
It was her life, her honor, at stake.
Here only the Gods had more power than the King…Kamenwati’s cousin.
Only the Gods could save her now.
If they would take her…
As a favored slave she had some rights, some freedoms. She’d served faithfully for over a year. As distinctive as she was, everyone knew it would be difficult for her to escape, and the punishment for attempting it was severe. While she might have gained some distance if she traveled at night, she couldn’t flee Thebes easily. The desert was unknown to her.
If she tried to escape and failed? The punishment would be left to Kamenwati. She’d seen that as well, his lips peeled back from his teeth in a savage grin as he beat the slave to death for attempting to run away. She’d seen and felt the dark pleasure he’d taken in the task.
Now, though, she was willing to risk death to escape, as she risked it now anyway.
Wrapping her swords in an old slave-shift, she slipped out of Kamenwati’s compound, telling the gate guards she needed to take her swords to be sharpened. It wasn’t an unusual request and deemed too demeaning a task for the slave-master.
Her swords were the only things of value she owned of herself. What little else had come from Kamenwati or as gifts from those who bet on her. She couldn’t use them as an offering to the Gods.
The city of Thebes was only somewhat known to her. She’d learned the language but there had been few valid reasons for her to leave Kamenwati’s estate. She had, however, noted the locations of the temples of the Gods on her few excursions.
It had taken time for her to understand those Gods, although it turned out they hadn’t been so foreign as her own Gods had been much the same, if with different names.
She hadn’t much time, though, for if she took too long her absence would be noted. Her explanation would only hold for a brief time.
One temple in particular she sought, the red-washed walls distinctive among the others…
For only a moment, she looked behind her toward Kamenwati’s compound and then she stepped into the cool depths of the interior. A breeze moved softly around her, seemed almost to sweep her inside.
The priests and priestesses paused in their devotions as she stepped into the cool shadows within the temple.
Resolutely, aware of their eyes on her, she walked to the altar at the feet of the Goddess and laid her swords upon it in offering. She bowed as she looked up at the lion-headed Goddess under whose sigil she’d been born. Slowly, she sank to her knees and prostrated herself.
This was the warrior Goddess, Sekhmet. Surely she would understand…of all
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