Tyrant: Funeral Games by Christian Cameron

Author:Christian Cameron [Cameron, Christian]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Tags: War & Military, General, Action & Adventure, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781409113171
Google: lcdSxRHzp4oC
Amazon: B003E1M6RC
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2010-01-20T18:30:00+00:00

Melitta sat in the shade of the old town’s largest acacia tree. The priestess was a little younger than the tree, but not much.

‘Hathor does not need the worship of a Greek girl,’ she said.

Melitta bowed silently, her hands clasped. ‘I come seeking only wisdom,’ she said.

The priestess nodded and glanced at Philokles, who sat quietly, wrapped in just a chlamys. Egyptian women coming to pray for love or for children glanced at him. The nudity of Greek men never failed to amaze the natives of the oldest land. One young matron, probably younger than Melitta, tittered to her friend and stared at the Spartan, but she got no reaction from him.

Instead, he sighed and opened a purse. Reaching inside, he took out a number of silver coins and offered them to the priestess.

‘Of course, in return for proper respect, Hathor will teach all who come before her,’ the priestess said. ‘Are you a virgin?’

Melitta flicked a glance at her tutor. ‘No,’ she said.

‘Good,’ the priestess said. She smiled. ‘Greeks can be such prudes.’

Philokles coloured slightly.

When they had taken their leave, Philokles fetched his staff from where he had placed it against the temple wall and glared at her. ‘You are not a virgin?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘No woman can go to Hathor a virgin,’ she said. ‘My servants told me as much.’

‘So you went and lay with a slave boy? You could be pregnant. You will never marry.’ Philokles was biting his words, swaying slightly as he walked - drunk, and now angry. ‘You dishonour—’

‘Oh, Philokles,’ Melitta said. ‘For the love of all the gods, be quiet. When have I had the chance to get a man in my bed? Really? I lied. How will that old priestess ever know, do you think? Will she put a finger between my legs? Eh?’

‘Don’t be gross,’ Philokles said. His relief was obvious.

‘I am not a Greek girl! I am a Sakje, even here in the desert, and I will lie with whoever I please, and neither you nor my brother will gainsay me!’ She was going to go on about what age her mother had first copulated, but she held her tongue. Philokles was dangerous when drunk.

‘How many priests will I have to pay off so that you can explore divinity, child?’ Philokles asked.

‘Wasn’t it you who proposed that I should explore all the religions of the Delta?’ she asked. Her cork-soled sandals were getting to be too small. Everything was too small - her chitons risked scandal and her legs were too long and she was so obviously a girl that it took a major conspiracy of her uncle Diodorus and her uncle Coenus and her brother to get her time to ride in private, which was unfair. She visited temples because it was a pastime allowed to women, and it let her be out on the street, walking, in the heat and the sun and the flies. Today they had walked twenty stades to reach the old temple of Hathor, and now they would walk twenty stades back to the new city.

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