Chapter 1
“Princess! Quick! Father!”
Tall’s voice echoed down the stone hallway. My tutor stopped mid-speech and glared down his nose at me.
“It would seem Father has summoned me,” I said.
I rose from my cushion on the stone floor, inelegant as my sandals tangled in my tunic, sending me pitching forward into my tutor’s arms. He thrust me back away from him, swift to move lest anyone see me in his embrace and came to the wrong conclusion. Tall’s voice retreated down the hallway as he passed our chamber.
“Tall,” I called after him. “I am here.”
He ran back to me.
“Quick!” He flapped his hands near his face to express the urgency of the summons. “Chaos! Uproar!”
“Come on then,” I said. “You can tell me on the way.”
“Father!” he said, trotting beside me as I strode down the hallway.
If he had any other name, Tall had long forgotten it. Most people regarded him as a simpleton and he was often the butt of jokes, but to me it seemed his mind was no less sharp than mine. He just didn’t have the ability to express his thoughts in anything more than single words. However, once I became accustomed to his manner of speaking, I found I could understand him perfectly well.
“Do you know why Father has summoned me?” I asked.
His hands flapped again, the thing he always did when he was anxious.
“Uproar! Sister!”
“Oh dear, is she injured?”
“Disaster!”
My older sister, Ishtar, was the perfect daughter. The beautiful one. The one who walked elegantly and sang sweetly and always had a witty comment ready. Our father thought she was practically the incarnation of the goddess Ishtar for whom she was named, she was so lovely. I, on the other hand, was clumsy and graceless, my face was plain, I couldn’t sing to save my life, and I was more interested in learning about history and politics than trading clever banter with potential suitors. I was a constant disappointment to our father who had hoped for two perfect daughters to marry off.
Although Ishtar was only fifteen years old, Father had already arranged a marriage for her. Tomorrow she would leave for Egypt, sailing away with a flotilla of ships bearing gifts for her intended husband. She was to marry Pharaoh and be his queen. Any excitement I might have felt for her was marred by my sadness at knowing I would never see her again.
As for me, our father had yet to negotiate a suitable marriage, even though I was only a year younger than Ishtar. It seemed no man wanted me for his wife, although I was a princess and daughter of the Great and Mighty Marduk-apla-iddina of Babylon.
We reached Father’s audience chamber and Tall stopped at the door, his hands flapping.
“Here!” he said.
“It is all right. You don’t have to come in with me.”
“Safe!”
“Yes, yes, I will be perfectly safe.”
Sometimes Tall couldn’t find the right word to express himself. I doubted he thought I would be in danger within Father’s audience chamber, but perhaps he thought I would be afraid without him. Whatever had happened must be dire indeed.
“Wait here for me.” I patted his arm, checked my tunic hung neatly, and entered the chamber.
Even if Tall hadn’t warned me, I would have known something was wrong. There were fewer people in here than usual, just Father’s personal guards who surrounded his throne as always, his most favoured administrator, and a handful of servants. There were no other administrators or scribes, messenger boys or folk who had brought a case for Father’s adjudication.
Ishtar knelt in front of Father, her forehead pressed to the mosaic tiles. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. Father sat with his arms crossed and a look of distinct displeasure on his face. Even in his aggravation, he still sat with his back straight and his head high. His curly black beard was immaculately groomed as always. Anyone who saw him would know he was an important man, even if they didn’t recognise him as their king. Father’s gaze shot straight to me.
“Kassaya,” he said. “You took your time.”
“Father, I apologise if I kept you waiting. I was at a lesson with my tutor. I came as soon as Tall found me.”
I knelt and pressed my forehead to the floor like Ishtar. The tiles were cool and smooth, variegated shades of purple which spread out like a sun from Father’s throne.
“I sent twelve servants in search of you,” Father said. “Why is it always the idiot who is the only one able to locate you?”
I said nothing. I knew Father well enough to know the words were more observation than question. Beside me, Ishtar still sobbed quietly.
“Kassaya, you may rise,” Father said.
I held my tunic away from my sandals as I got to my feet. Father did not seem to be in a mood that would tolerate me tripping and sprawling in front of his throne. Ishtar stayed where she was, her forehead pressed to the floor. She would not dare to rise until Father bid her.
“As you know,” Father said, “your sister was supposed to depart for Egypt tomorrow.”
I glanced down at Ishtar’s shaking shoulders. Supposed to depart? Had Pharaoh changed his mind about taking a princess of Babylon as his queen? Had he died or fallen grievously ill?
“Your sister, it seems, had no intention of obeying my wishes,” Father said.
I blinked in surprise, but managed to keep my mouth shut. This was not the time
for questions. Father would tell me what had happened, or he wouldn’t and I would get it out of Ishtar later.
“She has gone and gotten herself with child.” Father’s voice was cold.
Ishtar had a secret lover? Why would she risk the alliance with Egypt for a dalliance with a man she would never see again and who would likely forget her as soon as she sailed away? A chill washed over me as I realised the implication for myself.
Father could hardly send a pregnant bride to Pharaoh.
Nor would he risk offending Babylon’s most powerful ally by breaking an agreement already made.
If Ishtar could not go to Egypt, another daughter of Marduk-apla-iddina would be sent in her place.
Marduk-apla-iddina had five sons, but he had only one other daughter.
Me.
Chapter 2
“You depart at dawn,” Father said. “Go prepare yourself. The maids who were intended to accompany your sister will go with you. My administrator will attend you in your bedchamber shortly to receive a list of anyone else you wish to take. All other arrangements remain unchanged. ”
Ishtar sobbed even harder. The loss of her favourite maids would be a bitter blow to her. She had personally selected each of the women who attended to her and sometimes I felt she loved them better than she loved me.
I swallowed down my dismay and bowed low, then left before any unwise words could escape my mouth. Father was not the sort of man one argued with. Once he had made a proclamation — whatever it was — obedience was the only option.
Tall was gone when I exited the audience chamber. Perhaps a guard found him lingering in the hallway and chased him away. I hurried to my bedchamber, seeing nothing of the long hallways lined with potted plants, their walls tastefully decorated with frescoes from the finest artists. I reached my chamber just in time to close the door before a tear rolled down my cheeks. I scrubbed it away and sniffled. I would not cry. Father hadn’t raised me to snivel. This was what he required of me and I would do my duty with my head held high. I, Kassaya, daughter of Marduk-apla-iddina, would sail to Egypt and marry Pharaoh. I would be his queen.
The door opened and my mother slipped inside.
“Kassaya,” she said and held out her arms to me.
My resolve not to cry crumbled and I flung myself into her arms. I would never see my mother again. Egypt was a long way from Babylon and even if Pharaoh took me with him when he travelled to war, it was unlikely I would ever come here. After all, my marriage was intended to prevent any possibility of war with the Egyptians. I was the payment to strengthen our alliance. The sacrifice of my happiness would be of little consequence in Father’s opinion.
As my tears abated, Mother brushed a hair from my cheek. She was as composed as ever. Always the perfect queen, Mother wouldn’t shed a tear of regret over one of Father’s rulings, even in private.
“I expected to lose a daughter tomorrow,” she said. “I suppose it hardly matters which one it is.”
My tears returned at her words.
“You must do your father proud, my child,” Mother said. “Show Pharaoh what the women of Babylon are made of. Do not cry or plead or disobey him. Give him as many sons as you can and do it with a smile on your face. Show Pharaoh that Babylon is a strong and worthy ally. And always remember, dear child, that one day a son of a princess of Babylon will be Pharaoh of Egypt.”
“Yes, Mother.”
I could hardly ask what she knew about Ishtar’s pregnancy after such a speech. Surely Ishtar hadn’t meant to disobey Father. Surely her pregnancy was an accident.
Mother patted my cheek and smiled at me.
“Farewell, Daughter,” she said.
She left quickly, but not before I saw her eyes fill with tears. So it seemed Mother did cry, even if she pretended to be unbothered by Father’s decision.
The door closed and my tears came again. I hastily wiped them away in case Mother came back. Show Pharaoh that Babylon is a strong and worthy ally, she had said. And I would be queen. That was something I never expected. It was always Ishtar who was supposed to be
queen of somewhere. We both grew up knowing that as the oldest and prettiest daughter, she would make the most favourable marriage. But now she would stay here in Babylon and it was me who would travel over the seas to be a queen.
I went to the window and looked out at the view I would never again see. Dur-Kurigalzu — my father’s stronghold — sprawled before me. Beyond that lay Babylon. To my right, just visible at the edge of my window, stood the great temple, its stepped sides rising high into the sky, casting welcome shade over the buildings that crouched at its base. Over it all stretched an endless blue sky, the sun a fierce ball of flame that teased the horizon. A gentle breeze kissed my cheeks, drying the tears I hadn’t noticed were falling again. Babylon, city of my birth, and the place I had never thought to leave. A knock sounded on the door and I wiped my eyes.
“Enter,” I called.
The door opened and Father’s administrator came in, followed by two scribes. The administrator was a short, stocky man with a black beard that fell to halfway down his chest. He gave me a brief bow, then gestured for the scribes to set up their writing stations. The two men dropped to their knees and positioned their little wooden tables in front of them, on which they set reed styluses and fresh blocks of wet clay.
“Your Father instructs you to name those you wish to accompany you,” the administrator said.
He waited, clearly expecting me to have already decided. My mind whirled. This decision needed careful thought, but I couldn’t send the man back to Father without the list he expected.
“Tall,” I said. I was his only friend and without me, he would endure nothing but scorn and mockery. “Also Half.”
Half was so named because he stood barely half as high as a man. Folk in the palace were cruel to those who were different. Some called him Halfwit and joked they would need two of him to make a whole man, even though like Tall, Half’s mind was as sharp as anyones. I wondered sometimes what folk said of me behind my back, given my tendency to befriend those who were considered outcasts.
“Your tutor?” the administrator asked as the scribes pressed their reeds into the soft clay to make the necessary cuneiform symbols to record my words.
I hesitated. The man was a valuable source of information about politics, history
and geography, but he was also scathing towards both Tall and Half. The people I took with me should be those who would be allies. Friends in a foreign land. I could not see my tutor becoming my friend.
“No,” I said. “But find me someone who speaks Egyptian and who is knowledgable in their history and customs. A woman if possible.”
Ishtar had been tutored in the Egyptian language far more extensively than I had. I supposed Father had long planned her grand marriage would be to Pharaoh. I could greet an Egyptian in their own speech and if they spoke slowly enough I could understand some of what they said. But if I was to be queen, I needed fluency in their language and I wanted to understand the people I would rule over. I would pass the weeks of the journey to Egypt by learning everything I could.
“Do you wish any of your maids to accompany you?” the administrator asked. “Your father suggests they transfer to your sister since hers will be travelling with you.”
From the way he worded it, I understood Father had already made the decision.
“That will be satisfactory,” I said.
I wouldn’t be sorry to leave behind those chattering gossips. I fled their intrusion as much as possible, dressing myself early before they arrived and pretending I had lessons even when I didn’t to give me a reason to escape them. Ishtar’s maids would be no better, but perhaps customs would be different in Egypt. Perhaps I would not be expected to tolerate a contingent of women who had nothing to do other than fix my face, arrange my hair, and gossip about everything they saw. Once I was queen, I wouldn’t have time for such things anyway.
The administrator waited, clearly expecting me to name others. What would Father do if I requested Ishtar to accompany me? Since it was supposed to be she who went, ...
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