Flail of the Pharoah by Rosanna Challis Page A

corpulent body, judging by the rolls of fat his neck and arms revealed. He had a rancid smell too, compounded of sweat and incense. The idea that such a man was deemed fit to ‘purify’ anyone seemed ridiculous.
    Nevertheless the girl followed him into the inner sanctuary where a statue of Isis, with the child Horus on her knee, was clad in the most beautiful blue and gold garment. Charmian needed no second bidding to fall on her knees in adoration of the goddess.
    ‘Only those who are without sin may approach the bed of the God-King,’ Tut-Tut stated, his voice harsh in the echoing chamber. ‘Whatever sins you have committed in your life must be expunged, and the holy flail shall be the instrument of your expiation.’
    With that, he picked up a leather flail that lay upon the altar, one similar to the implement Neshi used on Kiya. Charmian felt her flesh quail at the prospect. She whimpered, ‘No, please,’ but Tut-Tut was towering above her with the flail in the air, a stern expression of contempt upon his fleshy face.
    ‘You shall be purified thus!’ he thundered, moved behind her and then, without warning, the first stinging lash fell upon her defenceless shoulders. A cry of agony burst from her lips. With an almighty crack the flail was wielded again, and again, each stroke bringing forth a searing pain and more agonised moans. Yet after three the punishment ceased and Charmian guessed it was more of a token than a real chastisement. Her tender nerves, unused to any sort of assault, had perhaps responded more keenly than the priest expected.
    He bent low and whispered in her ear, ‘That will suffice, my dear. Now you are purged and ready for his majesty’s bed. Rise and bow to the goddess, then follow me.’
    Although his words were kindly enough, his manner was revoltingly unctuous and Charmian prayed she would have little more to do with him. Her shoulders still ached from their beating, yet the pain was beginning to fade and if that was all there was to it she could bear it well enough. But what of her encounter with the Pharaoh, what new torment might that bring?
    Tut-Tut led her out of the gloomy temple and down the corridor towards the royal apartments. His feet made a squeaky slapping sound in his sandals and she could see the flabby folds in his neck below his mottled pate as he waddled along. The man revolted her, yet she was in his power. As she was in everyone’s power in this great palace, she reminded herself: above all, the Pharaoh’s.
    But such thoughts must be quelled if she was to present a pleasant face to King Seti on their first night together. Images of his congress with Queen Mira surfaced, only to be firmly dismissed. Tonight she must become the young bride she was once destined to be, long ago and far away. Instead of being given to a handsome prince of her own people she must give herself to an alien ruler, but it was better to accept her fate than to kick against it.
    Strengthened by such thoughts, Charmian entered the huge portal of the Pharaoh’s apartments. Tut-Tut hung back, forbidden to enter unless by express command. From now on, Charmian would be on her own.
    King Seti was waiting for her on his magnificent bed, just as he had awaited his queen on the previous night. His handsome face broke into a smile as she entered, and he beckoned her to join him. ‘Charmian, at last, come into the light where I may see your beauty.’
    She obeyed, although she was trembling beneath the thin shift she wore. Her hair was drenched with perfume and the rich scent filled her nostrils, confusing her mind.
    ‘That’s better,’ he smiled, his finger beneath her chin. ‘Your natural beauty shines forth tonight. It has no need of adornment.’
    She could smell his sweet breath and feel the heat radiating from his powerful body. He bent forward and slowly put his lips to hers in a delicately brushing kiss. Charmian felt her whole body tingle with excitement and fear. His arms encircled her,