Pharaoh's Bed

First Published in Great Britain in 2019 by

LOVE AFRICA PRESS

103 Reaver House, 12 East Street, Epsom KT17 1HX

www.loveafricapress.com

Text copyright © Mukami Ngari, 2019

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

The right of Mukami Ngari to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 9781370563999

BLURB:

Maa's dreams come true when the prince of Aksum chooses her to be his bride. However on the night of their marriage ceremony, the evil Pharaoh Lamani of Kemet invades Aksum with his army. He takes the throne and Maa as his concubine. 

She should hate him, but each time their eyes meet it feels like she has known him all her life. Like the hauntingly beautiful Lamani should be hers.

Can she love someone who ruins everything she cherishes? 

Chapter One

Although it was a warm day, Mount Neteru was covered in some kind of thick white fog. Shy like a new bride, as if it had forgotten that everyone had seen its peak the previous day.

Maa sat at the slopes of the mountain of the gods, her brown linen dress covered in blood and sheep’s urine. She looked at the new-born lamb she had just delivered and smiled. It warmed a shepherd’s heart when her flock multiplied.

She watched as the lamb suckled greedily. It was white with little brown specks like its troublesome father, the big sheep who started fights with any member of the flock unfortunate enough to stand close to him. He was hard to tame and had made the others scatter on many occasions.

"What shall we call you, little one?" she asked as she sat down on the lush green grass. Tiredness overcame her, and her chest hurt. She placed her hand there and soothed it. It had hurt for three days, and it got worse during the nights.

She hadn’t told her mother because she didn’t want to frighten her.

Maa forced a smile on her face when she saw a few of her shepherd friends pass by with their flocks in search of greener pastures. They waved, and she waved back.

"You are not coming?" Anenikoli asked. He was a good shepherd, and his was the biggest flock.

"No, I have a new lamb."

She watched as the shepherds ventured along. Anenikoli looked back at her and smiled. People said the two of them looked good together.

"He is a good man, don’t you think?" they would ask.

"Yes," she would answer.

It was true—Anenikoli was a good man, but he did not have the voice from her dream.

The dream.

Maa rubbed her hurting chest again. It always started and ended the same. A sharp dagger gleaming in the moon light, then it plunged deep, deep into her heart.

At first, she’d be shocked and unable to breathe, then the man with death’s eyes would twist it inside her. Slowly, she’d look down and touch where the knife went in. Her hand would get covered in her own blood, and that’s when she would feel the searing pain and experience her body shutting down.

She would close her eyes and fall half-conscious into the deep waters. But despite the pain and the drowning, her last memory would be of him. His warmth, his embrace, and his voice. She would smile, tell herself he was worth it. He was worth it all, and in another life, she would love him all over again.

It has been three moons now since the dream had first appeared to her. She didn’t know what had caused it to start, and she had tried everything to stop it. Sometimes, it was so painful, she was unable to wake up when morning came.

She would think about what the dream meant. It felt as real as any part of her day. She would think about the man’s voice, his warmth, his touch, and his embrace. When she inhaled really deeply, she even could smell him; he smelled like freshly cut cedar wood, her favourite smell in all the worlds.

Maa blinked as she spotted four men walking towards her. At first, she thought they were traders, and then, she noticed their red and black garbs. They were the guards under the prince’s command.

She stood up quickly and bowed. May the gods favour Aksum.

"May the gods favour Aksum," they echoed her.

Soldiers barely made trips to the fields. Was this about tax? She thought her mother had taken a tenth of their harvest to the king’s barn—they were dutiful citizens.

"The prince requests that all maidens of Aksum gather at the palace grounds."

"Is all well?"

"Yes. He wishes to choose a princess." One of them smiled.

Rumours had started flying that the prince would soon marry. Maa had thought he’d already made a choice. Many princes were in arranged marriages, betrothed to royalty such as they were. It was custom.

But people said the prince was different. He merried with peasants and walked in the market without guards. He fed orphaned children from his barn and lowered taxes for widowed women. She hadn’t thought he would choose a princess from amongst the people, as well.

"I cannot go with you … my flock … also my dress." She couldn’t leave her sheep, and she was not entirely dressed to ‘win the prince’s heart.’ She wore dull brown linen now sullied by the blood of the new-born lamb, and her sandals were coated in dust. She had been in the fields since morning.

"Your flock will be well taken care of … As for your dress … well, the prince says he wishes to see the maidens like this, unpainted and without adornments. Adornments can be deceiving, you know."

"Very deceiving," the other guards agreed.

Well, what would it hurt to do the prince’s bidding? Maa cleansed her face and hands at the watering hole, and two of the guards escorted her back to the palace. The other two remained with her flock. Should she have warned them about the mischievous sheep? She was sure he would cause some trouble now that she was gone.

When she got to the palace grounds, the arena was filled with hundreds of maidens. They stood in little groups of three and conversed in excited tones.

Some helped their friends smooth their hair, and others preened in their silk dresses. The guard was wrong; most of them wore beautiful adornments—gems on their necks, jewels on their waists, and sparkling bracelets on their wrists. They had painted their eyes and dotted their chins with ochre. They looked beautiful.

The prince then walked out of the palace. The maidens’ excited tones rose. Someone at the front started clapping, and soon, they all clapped for him. Maa stood on the second last row, and she drew up onto her toes to see him. He was fair-skinned and tall, with an easy smile she loved.

He looked unfazed by all the beauty that stood before him. He was certainly used to being surrounded by beauty—Maa had seen some of the palace servants, and they were very lovely. He spread his arms out wide to accept their adoration. To let them see him in all his glory.

One of the maidens broke into a song, but the chief guard commanded total silence.

"Let her sing," the prince said.

She praised his male beauty and his might in battle, and danced provocatively around him.

Another one wanted to sing for him, but the prince smiled and said she could come and entertain him later, in the throne room. He fondled her knuckles in appreciation.

"All of you are lovely. Aksum truly is home to the fairest of maidens, he said, and they clapped and cheered. What a lucky man I am … I wish I could marry you all"

The crowd cheered, and Maa thought about her sheep.

"I only have one request from you all," he continued.

"Name it," someone said.

"I would die for you!"

"So would I!"

One by one, they voiced their love for the prince, and he smiled, flattered.

"I seek your blessing. When the gods lead me to the one meant for me, I ask that you all love her as much as you love me."

After the promises were made, it felt like the crowd was in one accord. Still smiling, the prince walked along the first row, and he chose between the maidens like one would in a fruit market, picking berries instead of nuts.

A few girls were called forward, and the rest went home. Some were not so happy with his choice, especially the one who first sang and danced for him; she wailed at his feet and begged him to choose her. His guards appeared and dragged her away as she kicked her feet in the air. Maa felt for her. If she was the prince, she would have at least chosen her in the first round.

He walked through the rows, a commander examining his army before battle. He never once hesitated. It seemed he already knew what he wanted.

Soon, he