The boat rocked on the swell, the fenders down her side stopping the granite of the dockside from rubbing her timbers. She looked well cared for and the master was obviously itching to be away. Horenheb himself turned up with a bevy of staff and hangers on around him. He gave Muralsu a merry greeting as if they were old friends met by chance. Muralsu looked behind him and saw Isis, scared and small against one of the men whose, everyday robes could not disguise the fact that he was a soldier. She appeared unhurt and her dress had been sewn and her hair was now neatly combed. At a gesture from Horenheb the man released the girl who ran to Muralsu and hid behind her. “You have something for me?” Horenheb held out his hand. Muralsu placed a hand into her robe and pulled out a small leather packet and handed it over without a word. Horenheb, tore it open and removed the papyrus letter recognising the Queens seal. It had evidently been written by Ankesenamen herself and he recognised the cramped style of the writing. His eyes scanned the page and then he tore it into fragments. Suppersuluminus, the Hittite King, would never see the Queen’s words. He then handed Muralsu another packet containing his letter. “Take care of it, much rests on it – for us both.” Muralsu bowed and began to turn away. “Just one moment.” The General’s words were harsh and Muralsu turned back her heart beginning to race. “General?” “You forgot my gift. You see, despite what you think, I am a man of my word. You would do best to remember it.” The General took a bag from a servant and handed it to Muralsu. “Your silver.” Muralsu looked Isis and saw how frightened she was. She walked her to the boat and stroked her palm across her cheek. “Do not be afraid.” she told her. “It is all behind us and I would never have allowed any harm to befall you. Go on now.” She gave her a gentle push towards the gang plank, adding a playful slap across her rump. ”Get aboard and join the other girls.” As she watched the girl go she spoke softly to Asif. “Well Asif what do you think?” He deliberately misunderstood her. “Quite attractive if a little plump.” Muralsu scowled. She hated it when he read her thoughts, and sometime his straight-faced humour was irritating. There were times when she did not know how to take what he said. “Not her, Horenheb.” “If you had not fooled him then we would not be here. Still it would be best to keep and eye open.” Secreted in a false compartment in one of Muralsu’s travelling boxes nestled the Queen’s genuine letter. What Horenheb had seen was a hastily forged fake, promising the Hittite King certain cities, if he came to the Queen’s aid in the event of civil war when she chose her new husband. Later that day a policeman called at the lodgings that Muralsu had been staying at.. On been told that she had left to take ship abroad, the man shrugged. It was just as well, for that madman who they had arrested for assaulting her had escaped. That evening Muralsu wished to retire and required Isis to attend her. She had secured herself a small curtain off area of deck as her personal sleeping area, whereas all the others, including Asif, slept wherever they could without getting in the way of the sailors. The curtain parted and Isis stepped through, her face blotchy and her eyes red. “Whatever is a matter Isis you look terrible?” Muralsu’s tone was concerned. The girl burst into tears for she still had not recovered from her ordeal at Horenheb’s hands and was frightened at the thought of travelling to the land of their enemies. She had heard such stories of Hittites and how they ate babies and threw themselves into the flames before their god, Muralsu spread her arms and spoke soothingly, “Come here my dear, nothing more will harm you. I shall not let it.” The girl hesitated and then ran into her embrace. “I was so frightened mistress. They said that they would – they said I would have to …” “Shhh! my dear, it’s all done. Come, lie with me a while, just until you feel a bit better. No, never mind my jewellery for now.” They lay down on the cloaks and blankets that made a makeshift bed and Muralsu hugged the girl for her comfort. After a moment she shuffled slightly so the girl’s head lay on her breast and gently she placed a hand high upon the girl’s leg, her long fingers curling onto her inner thigh. After a while she spoke. “You can stay here with me tonight. Would you like that?” Isis felt safe and comforted and really didn’t want to be out where the sailors leered at her and the other girls. She innocently nodded her head deliciously against Muralsu’s aroused nipple. Muralsu started guiltily as the curtain swung aside but Isis lay fast asleep. It was Asif and Muralsu scowled. angry and embarrassed. “She was upset,” she said defensively. “Ah!! I shall leave you then, so as not to disturb her.” He drew back the curtain. Muralsu was angry, either at herself for the situation, or at being caught by Asif. It would be so easy to betray Miah and the girl was so soft, so appealing. She determined to be strong. She had promised the girl could stay with her. but she would not touch her, she would show Asif and his accusing eyes. Sacred breath why had she let this happen and why did Asif have to appear and witness her weakness? Perhaps it had been a good thing or Isis might have suffered another fright. She lightly kissed the top of the girl’s head and shut her eyes to sleep. Several days later Yukiko found herself in the Royal Palace being taught the basic household skills of a domestic servant. She found some of the work demeaning, and it appeared to her that the worst jobs were specifically assigned to her. She tried to forget that her father had always told her that theirs was a good family, and in the land of his birth she would have been a lady, and have her own household and servants and not have to lift a finger. Most of the other girls were pleasant enough, but she found that one had taken an instant dislike to her. This girl delighted in calling her names, she referred to her looks in the most disparaging way, and called her stupid whenever she did not understand. At least she was clean, fed and housed, which was better than the alternative of starving on the streets. She thought perhaps her father’s debt had in fact been an advantage, and life would not be so bad. At least now there was little likelihood of moving from place to place, and she could begin to put down roots, a luxury that she had never experienced. With this in mind, and to ease her duties, she worked hard at her language, something that she found easy. “Come with me.” The voice was sharp and uncompromising. Yukiko looked at the woman who spoke. She had never seen her before. The woman’s looks were as officious as her voice, and she stared at Yukiko with hard eyes. She was not dressed as a common servant, the cut of her garments was too rich for that, but neither was she a lady of quality. They made their way along several corridors and through an ornate courtyard and into another part of the palace. The walls here were richly decorated in bright colours, and there was an air of opulence. Yukiko could hear talking and laughter as they entered a final corridor which led into a room whose sumptuous furniture and wall hangings almost took her breath away. Lounging about on divans and cushions were numerous women, all richly attired and involved in various activities. The air was heavy with perfume and other scents, and serving girls weaved their way around carrying drinks or sweetmeats. At the far end of the room were two huge pillars and between them a tent-like structure had been erected in gold and blue under which a woman lay on a gilded couch. At her feet sat a harpist and several singers. The woman leading Yukiko stopped and bowed very low remaining so. The lady on the couch raised a hand and the music ceased. “Ah Sabaata, you have brought her. Move aside I’ve seen your face a thousand times, and it doesn’t get any sweeter.” There was giggling from the girls as the woman straightened up and moved aside gesturing to Yukiko to move forward. She took a small faltering step. The woman who stared down at her could not be called beautiful, her nose was straight and long and her mouth wide. Her head was swathed in material that matched the bright red of her dress and across her brow hung a string of pearls that echoed the clusters in her ears. Gold sparkled at her neck and wrists. She gestured with her hand. “Closer girl,” she commanded. Yukiko took two further steps. She continued to stare at the tiled flooring, fearing to cause offence by looking at the woman who was clearly of great importance. “Look at me.” Yukiko raised her eyes and tried to smile, but her face remained a mask hiding her fear. The woman uncurled her leg from beneath her and stood up and slowly looked her up and down. Yukiko hated it. It was as if she was some prize animal and was being appraised ready for purchase. What she did not realise was that that was almost exactly what it was. The woman stood up and slowly approached her. A bejewelled hand stretched out and took hold of her chin. The woman stared into her face turning it this way and that. She then walked around Yukiko’s back and inspected her from behind before returning to her seat. “What do you think Sabaata?” The woman who had brought Yukiko to the chamber bowed briefly and replied, “She is certainly different Highness, her eyes …” “Yes, pretty compared to the others. Are her looks enough do you think? Is there anything else? What about her temper? I understand she thrashed a couple of bailiffs single handed.” “A girl has spirit Highness, but can be tamed. If she is not sufficient then I shall return her to her duties.” The Queen, for Yukiko realised now who the woman was, seemed to make up her mind. “No, I’ll have her, if for no other reason than to stop Telepinus sniffing her out. At least she will be safe here.” Sabatta moved beside Yukiko and again bowed low. She took a few steps backwards, whilst pulling on Yukiko’s arm, gesturing for her to do likewise. Yukiko glanced once more at the Queen who was now in conversation with the harpist, and a song began as they left the room. She was taken to a room which evidently belonged to Sabaata. The woman unwrapped her outer robe and laid it over the back of a chair, before sitting down. Yukiko remained standing totally at a loss as to what to do or say. “Well my dear, I thought that strange face of yours was not going to be enough. She’s right of course, although unusual, some would find you pretty. It is more than can be said for your new companions although they are a pleasant couple of girls.” Yukiko was to find out that this was not entirely true. “What to do lady? I not understand, talk fast.” Sabaata smiled for the first time and it softened her features. “Firstly I am not a lady. In fact, strange to say, my social standing is less than yours. I am in fact a slave, and you are a bondswoman. In time you will be free, whereas I must endure this slavery for life.” She gestured to her comfortable surroundings. “Nevertheless you will treat me as you would any mistress, for my word is the Queen’s. Your duties are simple. You will attend service upon the Queen, the ladies of the court and any visitors you are designated to. You will see to their every want and comfort, and see that they do not go without. You are no ordinary servant however, and are one of the Queen’s pets as we call them. Her pets are unique in there own way. It amuses the Queen and some visitors to be attended by someone a little different.” Her voice hardened. “Hear me well. I will not tolerate any bad behaviour or fighting amongst the girls. You will keep your hands to yourself or I shall punish you severely. Now enough talk. I will take you to the others, and your first job is to perfect your vocabulary.” She noticed Yukiko’s brow wrinkle. “Learn to speak properly,” she added with a little exasperation. Yukiko obediently followed her out of the room. She had only understood only a small part of what had been said to her, but realised enough that she was to obey this woman. Yukiko entered a room indicated by Sabaata who then left her. It was plainer than the Queen’s sumptuous apartments and even the rich corridor along which they had come, but looked clean and comfortable. Facing away from the door was the figure of a girl, her hair a mass of frizzy reddish orange. She didn’t turn when Yukiko entered as she was engrossed in something in her lap. “I told to come,” said Yukiko her voice unsure. The girl turned and stared at her, and Yukiko stared back. Never before had she seen someone like this bright haired apparition. The girl stood up and put the game she had been playing on a table. “They said there was going to be another,” she said. “Come in, come in, we don’t have any ceremony here.” Yukiko tried not to continue staring. The girl had never been pretty, her jaw was too big and her nose had been broken and had set crooked. It gave her speech a nasal quality. However, it was not this that so surprised Yukiko. The entire girl’s exposed flesh, even her face, was covered in blue swirling patterns. They extended down her throat and disappeared under the neckline of her dress reappearing on her legs. She smiled and advanced to Yukiko gently taking her arm and leading her into the room. “Now let’s have a look at you,” she said pleasantly. She brushed the skin of Yukiko’s cheek. “Is that your natural colour or are you ill?” “ Not ill.” “What strange eyes you have. Some Hittites have high cheeks but yours are even more so. You’re not Hittite, that’s for sure.” “I am from far away.” The tattooed girl smiled, “That makes two of us. What’s your name?” “Yukiko.” She pronounced it in the Hittite fashion. They were interrupted by another girl entering the room. She was grotesque to Yukiko’s eyes. Her face was quite pleasant even pretty, but her head and a body appeared to have been squashed together. Her arms were short and fat and she waddled with an ungainly gait on small bandy legs. Her height was less than four feet and made even the diminutive Yukiko seem tall. “Miam,” said the tattooed girl, “This is Yukiko, she’s been sent to join us.” Miam gave her a scowl. “Why? We don’t want anyone else.” Miam sat in a chair, but being so small she had to hop up onto it backwards. “Last time I saw somebody that colour they were dead in a week. You got a disease have you? If so, get out, we’ve enough to do without nursing some new poxed bitch. I’m not going to hold a bowl whilst you puke your guts out.” “Don’t mind her. She doesn’t like anyone. My name is Mundia by the way.” Yukiko and the blue girl fell to telling each other where they had come from. Yukiko’s speech was hesitant as she searched for the right words. Miam howled with glee as Mundia corrected Yukiko pronunciation. By Astarte, Mundia you can’t teach her to talk properly, you can’t say the words right yourself. You’ll never get rid of that heathen accent of yours.” Mundia was from the uncivilised island tribe who lived across the sea and far beyond, further than most men had sailed. The seas that lapped the shores of her land were cold and dark and the countryside of her home brooding deep green forest. “How came you?” asked Yukiko, warming to the girl who was obviously a fellow traveller far from home. “Sea traders came to our village from time to time, Phoenicians. They would give us gold and strange wares for the rock we would mine for them. Tin they called it. I was to be married to a man in our village, a shaman, who I did not like.” “Sha-man? What is Sha-man?” “Magician, a holy man,” She added the word priest on seeing Yukiko confused look. “I was in love with one of the traders and we became lovers. When it was time for them to leave I stole aboard his ship and hid until thirst and hunger drove me to reveal myself. I thought my lover would be pleased, but he was angry.” She looked away. “He didn’t love me, he just wanted a warm bed-woman whilst he was away from home. He kept me though, and even chained me in case I ran away. In the end he sold me as a slave and a curiosity because of my tattoos.” “Tatoos?” “The blue.” She put out a leg and pulled up her dress. Yukiko saw that the patterns extended up her legs beneath the dress. “It is a dye made from a plant. The priest, the shaman, made magic with it on my body. Each mark means something.” “Does it not wash off?” asked Yukiko. “No,” Mundia replied, “It will stay this way all my life, and when I die the gods will read the messages they make.” “I have tattoo,” said Yukiko and showed a strange symbol drawn on the point of her shoulder. “Is that magic too? asked Mundia touching the sign. “No ,my father say it was sign of our house and all born must wear it.” Yukiko then told her own story, and spoke of the lands she had been through in her short life. She could not tell Mundia of her homeland however, for she had never seen it, and only had her father’s tales of what it was like and where it lay. “I wish you two heathens would stop jabbering,” interrupted Miam. She mimicked a foreign sounding accent, “I come from here, and I’ve been there.” She finished in her own voice, “Well I was born here, in the city, even if it was a gutter, and that makes me better than either of you.” Yukiko looked at Mundia who pulled a face. She felt a little happier for the first time since her father died. She was housed and fed and had found at least one friend. The first few weeks past by and Yukiko did not find her duties to be onerous. She was sometimes called on to help the Queen or Court Ladies, and at times she would sing for them. They particularly liked her songs which were strangely sad, even if they could not understand the language. Sometimes they asked her to tell the story of what she sang, and some would giggle at her accent, or laugh out loud when she used a wrong word. She learned quickly however and as the days went by she became more fluent and the laughter ceased. She thought that life was very pleasant but could not help a nagging doubt that no amount of thought could resolve. One day whilst Miam was absent, Yukiko spoke to Mundia. “Mundia, do you like your life here?” The girl looked up the sun shining on the blue patterns on her face. “Yes, life is easy, why should I not like it?” “I can’t help wondering …” Yukiko’s voice tailed off, and then she added “Why?” “Why?” “Yes, one time I am in debt and homeless, and the next I am housed in palace, dressed, fed and given the lightest of work. Why? Why would anyone pay my debt and give me easy job?” Mundia looked at her a second and burst out laughing. She placed a hand on Yukiko’s arm. “It’s for, - you know? - When we look after the special guests.” “Why? Will that be so hard?” Mundia paused, the smile fading slightly from her lips, “By Istar you don’t know do you? You really don’t know.” Yukiko suddenly had an awful feeling and her heart began to hammer, “Tell me Mundia please,” she said needing to know the answer, and fearing to hear it. “We are whores, didn’t they tell you. Not common harlots, far from it, our services are offered by the Queen to honoured guests, particularly if they wish for something a little different.” Yukiko face drained of blood, it was now obvious, how could she have been so stupid? Nobody gives without expecting in return, and what did she have but her body?