The woman took several steps towards the Chief and a flirtatious grin spread across his face. ‘You see?’ he looked around at his men. ‘That is the effect I have on women.’
The men howled.
‘Gods, you are beautiful,’ said Bandir. He put his hand on Hathor’s chin and lifted it. ‘Now I see why you are called Hathor.’
Tahar could no longer think. He could no longer see. If the Chief kept his hands on her skin one moment longer Tahar feared he would smash that wicked grin from the Chief’s face and stick an arrow in his middle. It was only after many moments that Tahar realised Bandir was speaking again, and placing something shiny around Tahar’s neck.
‘Forged in the mines of Meroe, honed by the craftsmen of Napata, and stored for safekeeping in the tomb of Zoser the Great—ah, I mean the Terrible,’ Bandir pronounced.
Tahar touched the heavy chain that had been hung around his neck. It was made of thick gold. He had seen such a chain once before, hanging about the neck of a travelling prince.
‘This gift I present as a token of my gratitude,’ Bandir said, ‘for allowing me to take Hathor as my wife.’
If Tahar had believed in gods he might have thought they were laughing at him now, for they had just given him everything he had always wanted. The only problem was that he didn’t want it any more.
‘I could just take her, of course,’ Bandir added, ‘but you are a soldier in my army now, and you have protected her virtue well. I am assuming she is healthy, and sufficiently skilled at performing a woman’s duty?’
‘Hathor is a virgin.’
Bandir stumbled backwards exaggeratedly, and his men laughed. Righting himself, the Chief lifted another gold necklace from around his neck and placed it around Tahar’s.
‘There you are, brother—enough gold to buy ten asses, a field of wheat or a very large boat. After you help us defeat the Khemetians you will never need to ply the trade routes again.’
Tahar stole a glance at Hathor. She stared at the ground with stony eyes. Though she could not understand the language the men spoke, she could surely guess what was taking place.
Bandir addressed his men. ‘Tonight shall be our wedding night!’ The Chief raised his arms and smiled while his men cheered. He stepped before Tahar and opened his arms. ‘Congratulate me, soldier!’
The dagger Tahar kept on a belt beneath his robe seemed to burn against his skin, but there were simply too many men for him to attempt to use it. There was nothing Tahar could do but accept the Chief’s embrace.
The old man whispered in Tahar’s ear: ‘She looks good enough to eat. Tonight, I feast.’
Tahar burst into a fit of coughs, struggling to swallow his rage. He managed to bow to the Chief, as was the custom.
The crowd of men exploded in a storm of whistles and shouts as the Chief bowed back. Then the wretched old man wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist and pulled her close.
‘Look at me, brothers,’ he shouted. ‘I am wed!’
The men converged upon the Chief and his bride, shouting their congratulations, and Tahar felt his body grow cold. If it was the last thing he did in his cursed life it would be to free the woman he loved.