((I should pretty this up, but I can't be bothered. I'm posting it before I loose my nerve. So self concious of my writing!))

Under the Lotus

Chapter 1

Light footfalls made not a sound on the cool tiles, carrying the young woman silently through the palace, her bare feet moving gracefully under the translucent linen shift she wore. Hair coiffed with a minimum of fuss that morning, her unnaturally scarlet hued eyes outlined in black, drawn to a point along the curve of her face in the Egyptian way, the woman wore hardly any jewelry, only the minimum accouterments for a princess. She was not seeking to be seen that morning, quite the contrary she sought solitude, escaping the watchful eyes of her guards and the hovering of her maids, she’d slipped out from her rooms in the early hours of the morning. The sun crept over the horizon, the garden faintly lit as she descended the stairs to her favorite spot there. A far off corner, shaded by large palms, the heady scent of hibiscus blossoms filling the air. Here was her fountain, the space filled by the sound of the falling water, the spray hanging in the warm air, a green place full of life, a sanctuary from the dry desert air. It was cool in the early morning with the promise of the day’s oppressive heat already apparent, the sun’s creeping light blossoming around her as she reached her sanctuary. She settled on the richly decorated rugs there, pillows with gold thread in their weave, costing a small fortune to make, merely upon which to lay her head. She closed her eyes and listened to the slowly fading night sounds be replaced by those of the day. She drowsed there, the air heating up as the sun rose. A voice awoke her.

“Dreaming child? That’s all you ever do. Dream. Sneaking off, the guards all in a fuss. I know your ways though. I know where to find you,” said a woman’s voice. Not unkindly. Doting. The young woman wrinkled her nose at the voice. Followed. She sighed exasperated. Opening her eyes, the young girl woman looked on her maid with a hint of annoyance, but also genuine affection. She knew what was coming next. Gentle scolding. Fretting about her appearance. She expected it. Old, Nana had been her maid since childhood.

“Tsk, child, you are half naked! This won’t do, won’t do at all! Barely presentable,” said the older woman. Of course, the translucent shift the young woman wore was not considered immodest, it was the norm for her people to wear little in the way of clothes in the hot dessert environment, they tended to favor the airy linen fabrics that kept the sun from the skin but breathed well. This was not what the maid meant. The older woman descended on her, sheathing the girl’s arms in ornately jeweled bracelets, tying gold weaved anklets about her legs. She pulled out a large swath of light linen and wrapped this about the girl’s shoulders, her deft fingers quickly and with the ease of years of practice, completed a series of complex pleats that molded the fabric to accentuate the girl’s form beneath it. Completing the ensemble, the maid draped the heavy necklace that laid like a collor about her shoulders, it came over the swell of her breast and was replete with gold and jewels of all kinds. The girl withstood the woman’s ministrations knowing that protest would only prolong the procedure and cause the older woman no end of grief. Her charge would be well dressed and presentable and anything less would have been a personal affront to her. “There,” said the old maid appeased and standing back to observe her handy work, nodding in satisfaction.

“So what are you dreaming about today? Certainly there were lots of handsome men at the party last night, maybe one has finally caught our Herla’s eye,” said the maid teasingly as she set upon the girl’s hair now, adjusting the feathered head piece, tucking and pulling, laying each strand just so, the brightly hued feathers o f peacocks adorning it.

The young girl woman gave a giggle and a roll to her eyes, “Oh, I don’t know. They are all so awfully entertaining,” she spoke, her voice light and lilting, with a femininity that had beguiled and entranced many a suitor, “A few of them danced quite well even. So many where such bores though, no fun at all, talking of wars and slave revolts. How dreadfully dull,” she said a bit of a pout on her lips, “Why, who wants to hear about that?” when they could have been complimenting her on her fine complexion or on the remarkable scarlet hue of her eyes? That’s what she enjoyed about them. The compliments, the fawning. The vying for her eye. The best parties where those where she sat resplendent, the center of attention.

“What of Sabola, then? I heard he was there, just back from your father’s campaign in the East. Quite victorious I hear. Your father, The God, holds great favor for him,” she nattered on as she worked, adjusting now some of the pleats in her dress, not satisfied with some aspect of their arrangement.

The young girl woman sighed dramatically, “Father would never make me marry him” she said. She was the God’s only daughter and treasured as a high gift, being all that he had left of his deceased wife. His only wife. A rarity among Pharaoh’s but such had been the love he’d had for her. The Court was in great upheaval over his refusal to father more children to solidify his Dynasty and even more at odds with him over the freedoms he allowed his daughter. And his refusal to make the girl now a woman, marry. He wanted to allow her the freedom to marry for love, or not at all.
The girl did not want to marry. She enjoyed her freedom, she enjoyed the parties, the flirting, the adoring eyes of males on her…she wanted to have fun. To be amused. To play with them. Watch them vie for her. None of it was serious. She was untouchable. The God’s daughter. The palace was a fortress, an army of guards kept her secure within its walls. Eunuchs all of them, so there would never be any temptation to touch her. Pressures were growing though and the girl began to dread that maybe her father would succumb to his advisors and choose a husband for her.

“Would it be so bad,” asked the maid, “He’s very handsome, even an old woman like me can appreciate that. It’s obvious he cares for you, look at the gifts he brought back for you! He lavishes you with praise…you like that, don’t you?” The girl arched her fine eyebrow at the maid, a coy smile on her face. He was indeed handsome and she enjoyed his attentions. Just like all the rest. The gifts had been extravagant as well. Much gold and jewels, and very fine silks. But she took it for granted. She displayed gratitude, complimented the dutiful soldier for service to the kingdom, gave him her smile but none of it touched her heart.

“He can’t have me,” she said, her voice flippant, “I won’t marry any of them. Where would be the fun in that?” Marry and become a wife, have children? It would mean an end to the parties and the parades of doting suitors? How horrible! No, she would have none of that. She was The God’s Daughter.

“Alright child,” said the maid with tired tolerance, “you should be careful of all these hearts you are breaking. No good will come of it.”

The girl woman only laughed.