Year I of Pharaoh Senusret, the third of this name to ascend the throne of Horus. Day 12 of month Rekeh-wer in Peret, season of the emergence.
The winter sun radiated little heat, and Bastet pulled her shawl tighter. A gust of wind blew through her clothes and urged her to haste—her least favorite time of the year. The air smelled of mud, and the cold forced inhabitants of the capital Itj-tawy to stay indoors, where the gloom dispirited Bastet. This year though, not even the cold could keep her inside. She hurried on, while her thoughts leapt ahead. Her lover awaited her, and she was on her way to see him.
A hot wave of excitement surged through her as she recalled their previous tryst when he smuggled her into the garden of the Amun temple. She could almost feel his hands on her body again. That time they didn’t stop at kissing and fondling. While she lay on the ground, he pushed up her dress, squeezed his knee between her thighs, so she opened up for him, like a flower in bloom. Yes, her first time, and she’d wanted it, wanted him! His erection was enormous and he penetrated her with so much force it hurt. She’d imagined joining with a man would offer more pleasure and passion. Instead, he’d thrust into her hard.
For a moment, she wondered if he even cared who lay beneath him. His lust had a desperate quality. So what? They loved each other, and nothing else mattered. Her friends had assured her the act would become more enjoyable. Were they right? She could hardly wait to find out, to surrender to him once more.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, Bastet giggled. Would he take her to the holy realm again, the zone reserved for priests? Meeting in a forbidden place sure made their rendezvous even more alluring. Would he mention marriage this time? Her monthly bleeding was overdue. Maybe she carried his child already.
She turned into a narrow alley rimmed by the walls of two properties. Although she didn’t like the gloomy, deserted lane, it offered a welcome shortcut taking her to the man she loved much sooner.
A figure stepped from behind a protrusion in one of the walls and blocked her path. She started, then recognized the face and laughed with relief. “It’s you! Oh, you scared me…”
The arm moved fast, fist clutching a strange object. A thud. Brief, intense pain in her chest. She touched the left side. Her heart cramped. She stumbled. Why? Again the arm lifted, and she recognized a weapon. Run! Get away! She dashed back the path she’d come but her strength dwindled. At the sound of sandals slapping over the compact ground behind her she imagined the vicious tip piercing her flesh again. Fear for her life allowed her feet to fly along the path. At last, she reached the end of the alley. The park there promised safety and hiding places. “Help!” she yelled. “Help me!” But no people roamed the garden. Her heart raced. She could hardly draw a breath but had to move on, hide among the bushes. She panted and hardly felt the branches whipping her skin. Her shawl caught in the thorns. She released her grip on it. Ahead she saw dense shrubs and ducked into their shadows. Need to get away! The brushwood clasped her, and she couldn’t muster the strength to tear away. So she crouched in a trough.
“I can see you; I can hear you. No use hiding from me,” the voice purred.
Unable to suppress her gasps, Bastet listened to the rustling noises of her approaching pursuer. The twigs above her parted. She wanted to jump up and run away, but her limbs no longer obeyed. Black spots dotted her vision. No, don’t! Don’t lose consciousness…