Chapter 7 The following day was spent in the multitudinous tasks that were required to put a travelling show together. They kept everything small, although Muralsu would not curtail her professionalism when selecting materials and dancers. “This will be the last time the name of Muralsu, the Ethiopian, will be on people’s lips.” She said, “There is an expression that you are only as good as your last performance, and I will not have years of hard won reputation washed away by lack of effort or make do.” Asif’s face split in a half toothed grin. He was enjoying himself immensely, and thrived on the hustle and bustle of preparing things in his usual efficient manner. He liked to watch the girls being interviewed and put through their paces by Muralsu whose demands seemed to be beyond most of the applicants. She was equally hard on herself and had begun a rigorous exercise routine, punishing her body for too many hours of indolence and sweetmeats. There was one difference in working for Ankhesenamun and it was proving a stumbling block and delay, both of which matters grated on Muralsu’s temper. The Queen had been brought up with all the luxuries that a royal palace could provide. The palace itself had been in the dream city of Pharaoh Akenaten and far removed from the necessities of daily life. Nefertiti had been more worldly, and practical in a no nonsense way. Muralsu had arrived in Egypt with sufficient funds to support them for an indefinite period. She had not however contemplated the cost of setting up a touring troupe of dancers and their transport to the land of the Hittites. When she had first toured she had worked small towns, taverns and oasis, anywhere where a crowd could gather and show their appreciation. Money earned this way had bought her way to the next town or city and so she had made a living, whilst quietly hording the allowance Nefrtiti gave her. As her fame spread she had worked more exclusive venues until she was in demand in any home with pretensions of grandeur. It was from their only a small step to the palaces of governors and kings. It had all needed money and her spectacular performances were as much down to the cost of style as well as to the endurance and expertise of the dancers. Ankhesenamun had no thought to cost or that indeed such a concept existed, except in the vaguest of ways. Muralsu cursed herself for not thinking of the practicalities of the situation and demanded the costs to be met for her, and indeed a little more beside. It was another example, she thought of having become slipshod. That worried her because it was dangerous. She had always succeeded by being careful and being one step ahead all the time. As it was she made do, selling some of the jewellery that she had brought with her which almost broke her heart. Asif, as usual, was a miracle worker and managed to obtain a great deal by trading on Muralsu’s name and fame, and giving promises of future custom and recommendations to the influential, with whom the traders thought Muralsu would be rubbing shoulders. Muralsu finished exercising and walked to the house, the sweat gleaming over her dark skin. The inn boasted a rear garden which was really merely an enclosed dusty area with one or two stunted bushes. It had been a haven for rubbish, but Muralsu had it cleared to give her room to exercise, and to put the dancers through their paces. Finishing her routine she walked towards the inn and stilled her heavy breathing on seeing Asif. “Where’s Isis?” she asked. “I smell disgusting and need a bath.” She pulled off the damp short tunic that was clinging to her oblivious to Asif’s gaze. After all he had been seeing her naked for years, and the only thing she was ashamed of were her extra pounds.” “One moment Muralsu, we have had a little luck. Sit here a moment and watch.” He patted the back of one of the chairs that had been placed against the wall and from where Asif had been watching. “Asif!” she replied in irritation but the old man just shushed her and again patted the seat encouragingly. “This better be worth it you old goat” mumbled Muralsu as she wiped the tunic across the sheen of her upper body and sat down still naked. A screen, was placed near the far end of the garden half way between the side walls that enclosed the area. Muralsu looked up at Asif inquisitorially. He only pointed down the garden and inclined his head, the gesture meaning, watch. Two musicians appeared, they were local men who had agreed to help out, but did not intend to join the company. They stood to one side, for the time being silent. A young girl entered and walked down the room to Muralsu. She bowed and her eyes seemed to flick over Muralsu surprised at her nakedness. Muralsu judged her to be about twelve and a bit on the thin side, but nothing that good food and a year or two would not fill out very nicely. Her skin was a flawless and darkly tanned and her brown hair was held back with a blue ribbon that matched the colour of the short skirt she wore. A necklace of cheap blue beads encircled her neck and draped across her budding breasts. “Your name girl?” asked Muralsu The girl swallowed and caste down her eyes. “Naidine, lady.” “Very well Naidine, I assume that you have come to dance and not gawp at me. Show me what you can do.” The girl bobbed a curtsey and stole a glance at Asif before taking up a position in the centre of the dance area. The flute and drum took up a slow rhythm to which the girl performed some graceful and quite pleasing movements, although nothing out of the ordinary. Any of the pupils at Muralsu’s school could have done as well. She was just about to stand and dismiss the girl when, with two hefty beats the rhythm changed to a livelier one. The girl’s face that had been a study of concentration split into a grin showing a small gap between the two front teeth. She whirled and leaped loosing herself in the music. This was a little better and Muralsu settled back once more. The girl took three large leaps to the far end of the hall and then cart wheeled cross-wise. She had timed herself well and landed on her feet only inches from the wall. She lifted her arms and still grinning with pleasure danced back down the hall in a series of full turns. Muralsu sat forward her attention grabbed by the fact that Naidine’s skirt was now red and not blue. She danced for a few more moments and with a beat from the drum, executed the splits before Muralsu. She grinned and Asif bent forward and handed her red feather, which she tucked in her hair ribbon which also was now red as were her beads. She bounced up, and danced away to cart wheel across the garden and by the time she reached the opposite wall, her dress was blue and she sported a blue feather. The change happened in the instant that she was masked by the screen. The girl then tuned and ran on tip toe behind the screen. The flute took up a wistful melody and then at a drumbeat a leg appeared at the edge of the screen and then an arm. Almost immediately another leg and arm appeared at the opposite end of the screen and the effect was quite comical. The drum rattled to a halt and the limbs vanished. Muralsu applauded and then called out. “Excellent, excellent. Come forward girls let’s see you both together.” mirror images appeared from either end of the screen, one in blue and one in red, their similar faces flushed and laughing. They stood in front of Muralsu their breathing still heavy and grinned at her. Like most identical twins they enjoyed the jest of fooling people. “Your dancing is a little rough but what you lack in stile you make up for in enthusiasm and joy of the work. Are you free to join our company?” Naidine answered. “Oh yes lady. We have our father’s blessing but only to join you and no other.” “Why so?” “He has heard of you lady, and says that you look after your girls and no harm will befall us. He says that you will pay well if we are good enough.” “Are you good enough?” “Yes lady, you have seen.” Muralsu eyes turned on the other girl as she said, “And your sister, has she a tongue or do you talk for you both? What is your name my dear? “Ben an Asset lady” “ Ah! Goddess of the dance. You have much to live up to. And do you also wish to join me?” The girl nodded furiously and glanced at her sister. “Tell me Ben an Asset, what is the most important thing for you in this world?” “To dance lady. To be the best and most famous dancer in the world.” Her eyes had flickered to Asif as she spoke. “And what does it take do you think to become so?” Naidine answered,” Hard work lady.” Muralsu stood dwarfing the girls who both took a pace backwards. “I am a hard taskmaster. I expect my girls to work until they drop and to get up and work some more. I will not be gainsaid, and expect complete obedience. In exchange my girls become the best there is, reaping rich rewards and living in luxury with the finest clothes and food. Will you obey me?” “Yes lady” they both chorused. “Then you are hired.” Both girls squealed with delight, jumping up and down and patting one another. “Quiet!” Muralsu’s voice of authority cut through the noise. Wait with the musicians and Asif will come and see to you shortly. She watched the girls as they walked down the garden laughing to each other with Naidine doing the talking. Muralsu thought how neat they looked with their brown straight backs and the curve of their bottoms moving in unison as they walked. She banished the thought that had crept insidiously into her mind. Scowling because of it she looked at Asif. “So whose are they? Don’t put on that innocent look, it never suites you. I swear you would have been born with a devious look on your face. I see that you schooled them in their replies as well as the dance” Asif smiled and shrugged acknowledging being caught out “Their grandfather is an old friend. I could have asked you to take the girls, but I wanted them to win through on the merits” “With a little help” Muralsu prompted. “Ah!” replied Asif “We all need a little help from time to time.” Muralsu sat huddled in a warm cloak in a seat on the roof of their lodgings looking out over streets. Her head ached and she felt out of sorts, pulled several different ways by her wants, needs and desires. It had been so simple only a few weeks before, but recent events had made her question what she was doing. She wondered about her sexuality, and not for the first time. She knew that she could love women in both the physical and emotional sense. Her tastes were wide, though as she grew older she found that she preferred younger girls to a mature woman. Perhaps it was that she liked to care for someone, to mother them and look after them as well as to make love to them. It was part of her dominating character, and yet there were undoubtedly times she wished to be the one cared for and protected. It was how she managed to make love to a man when necessary or when she found the need too great. She would force herself to forget the past and let the man take the lead. It did not always work, too many men had used her badly when she had been a slave and could not refuse them. From that first time, she had only known a kinder love and a more exciting passion with a women and a closeness that she had never found with a man. Could she fully be satisfied with the tender lovemaking that she imagined Miah would give her? “They say the answers to our deepest questions lie hidden in the stars.” Asif’s quiet voice drifted from the stairwell. Muralsu looked up at the bejewelled night sky. “Then they are fools that say it.” she replied. “Do you want company Blackbird?” Muralsu was as unsure of that as much as the other things that troubled her. Alone she would merely send the same questions swirling round her mind time and again without moving forward to any solution or peace. Asif was adept at reading her mind and knew when to sit in companionable silence and when to push her to voice her worries. It was funny she thought, who listened to Asif when he was troubled? But again she had never seen him so afflicted. After a moment’s hesitation she said, “Come, sit, the night is full of fears.” “And will melt away with the morning sun.” he said, approaching her and sitting in the remaining basket chair. “Will they old friend?” “If you let them Blackbird. Face them, name them, and thereby banish them.” They sat in silence. Muralsu feared to be seen as anything but strong. Because she was tall and muscularly built all be it in an undeniably female way, people expected her to be strong. It was an image she had cultivated until it had become part of her. At times however, she discovered the child within who desperately needed the father that she had never properly known, and all she wished was to weep on his shoulder. “He is going to find out isn’t he?” She voiced her most urgent fear. Asif knew that she spoke of her betrothed. “And what if he does? May be it would be better not to live with a guilty secret. He will probably know the truth sometime.” She looked at him, “By then we would be man and wife.” “And what difference would that make? Do you think he would thank you for not telling him, for not trusting him to love you and accept you for what you are?” “His family …” “If he cares for what his family thinks more than he cares for you, then you are better without him, his love is a sham and will blow away like the desert dust.” Again they lapsed into silence broken only by the barking of a dog in the street below. Without looking at him Muralsu asked, “Do you like him?” Asif’s sniffed as he always did when about to appraise something. “He is a fine man, kindly, not bad looking I suppose, and rich enough for any woman, even you” “You speak like one offering praise where it is asked for, but holding back a reservation.” “He has all the necessary attributes to make a fine and tender husband, and I like him well enough for that.” “But ?” Asif pulled a face as if weighing up a price and being undecided “Asif, by Sekhemet’s breath speak plain.” “You will be angry.” “No I won’t – well yes probably I will if you think so, but it will pass. Now speak.” “I speak only because you ask it of me, and you ask of my own thoughts which give favour to no man or woman. But is the word as I see it and I may be wrong, but it is for you to weigh my thoughts and keep or reject them. I ask only that you use your mind as well as your heart.” Muralsu clenched her teeth. He always gave a long preamble if what he was going to say was unpalatable. He needed to say no more for she knew that he was against the marriage. She did not want to hear more but knew that it was only in case he voiced her own doubts, and thereby gave them more sustenance. “Why did you come here?” he asked. “Was it that you really feared a dead queen, or was it to escape what you yourself had built, a comfortable and conventional prison. Was this a chance to wing away once last time, to feel the fire run through your veins, the thrill of performance and the spice of danger? Muralsu suddenly stood and took a pace to lean against the parapet. Yes she knew that Ankhesenamun had sparked new life into her, but it was for one last time. Had not that long exhausting climb and the mistakes she had made been proof that she was getting past it all? Only yesterday to her horror she had found grey hairs amongst her ebony curls. “You may be right Asif, but it is one last time, then I will be free of the house of Ahomose Nefertiri and can settle down.” There was a grunt from Asif. She could not tell whether it was one of agreement or merely an acknowledgement that she had spoken. The silence hung again in the air like an unfinished song or a dance but half performed. Still looking out into the darkness Muralsu spoke. “Well?” For a moment there was no reply and then she heard Asif shuffle in his seat. “There are times when even an old buzzard like me will not venture into the blackbirds nest.” “If not you then I am truly alone.” “Very well. My ears are not what they were but my eyes are sharp enough. I have seen how you look at Isis at times, and your eyes followed those girls today for the full length of the garden. You have tried I know, and for a while you fooled even me. The Gods made us what we are, man, woman, fool and wise man. Can a cheetah lie content with a lamb, can a crocodile deny its nature and eat grass? Perhaps it is wrong to deny what the gods intended for us.” Muralsu’s hands grasped the mud brick of the wall as if my crushing it she could drown out the words that she had asked to hear. Give Miah up? No she could not. She felt the slight breeze blow the tears from her eyes and after a moment or two she relaxed her bunched up shoulders. “You think I should give him up?” There was no reply to her question and she turned to find the seat empty and the rooftop deserted.