Page 5 of Over the Emerald Valley
And what was the viceroy’s motivation behind this charade? Was this simply an opportunity for an extremely wealthy man to show off his collection? Would he be doing such if he knew Horemheb suspected him of embezzling riches beyond his already indulgent share of the mine’s profit?
Smoke from the doused torches wafted toward the table, marring the taste of the wine. Just when Solon thought the performance finished, a troupe of jugglers burst onto the floor, and the music sounded anew.
At least he was no longer expected to carry on conversation.
As his belly filled to the brim, the dirt and grime of the journey grew uncomfortable. That bath he’d been promised beckoned. They could discuss the mine’s productivity tomorrow morning.
The jugglers bowed.
Solon was about to thank his host and take his leave when Abasi clapped his hands and declared, “And now, the grande finale!”
Thumping back against the seat with a stifled sigh, Solon settled in for whatever was to come next.
“You’ll be pleased to know I intend to offereveryhospitality,” Abasi continued as a new group of women paraded toward their table, “including the use of my personal harem.”
Solon found the man’s arrogant tone grating and his offer unappealing. The women were overly decorated, dripping in jewelry, their eyes lined with enough kohl to blacken a white hand cloth.
“Mind you,” Abasi went on, unaware of Solon’s distaste, “I don’t give every guest such generous terms. But when the pharaoh sees fit to send an esteemed general to my door, well, I shall see that man offered the best of the best.”
The obligatory smile spread on Solon’s face. How could he decline without offending the man he was here to investigate? The last thing he needed was a woman in his bedchamber, spying and reporting his behavior to her master.
“You’re most generous, my new friend, but—”
“Ah, fear not.” Abasi raised a bejeweled finger with a flourish and beckoned forth a new group. “I’m told you prefer men, and I’m nothing if not accommodating.”
Solon preferredwilling partners, not slaves, but he wouldn’t risk insulting Abasi with his morals.
There was no easy way to get out of this. He’d have to select one of them.
As the newest line of elegant, supple bodies drew close, Solon caught the gaze of a tall man who moved with the feline grace of a street cat. His honey-colored hair hung in long, loose waves over his shoulders, and his pursed lips said he knew what a gem he was.
That light hair marked him as foreign among all the black silken tresses of the other concubines. Northern. From distant lands. How did he end up in an Egyptian harem so far south?
Solon stared. The man wore no paint, no kohl, and no gaudy decorations, just a simple green linen shift belted at the waist. His beauty needed no enhancement.
Rather than cast his gaze demurely at the floor, as the others had done, the blond met Solon’s stare…and winked.
A real smile at such a display of gumption replaced the fake one on Solon’s lips.
Abasi stood, and a servant bustled to move his chair out of the way. “Come, have a look. Shall I introduce them?”
Solon followed his host to the line of concubines. There were fewer men than women, but still quite the selection. Six men and nine women in total.
“That won’t be necessary.” Solon would prefer to retire alone for the night, but if he had to pick… “I’ve made my choice.”
Abasi knocked him on the back so hard Solon nearly stumbled. “I like a man who knows what he wants. Which will it be?”
The blond, without hesitation, stepped forward. Bold. He peered at Solon through half-lidded eyes, gaze intense, as if daring him to suggest anyone but himself.
“Him.” Solon gestured to the brazen slave, who only then deigned to lower his gaze.
“Ah, well chosen. That is Temaj, a beauty from the north and a wild cat beneath the sheets, or so I’m told. My tastes don’t run toward men.”
“Then why have them in your harem?” The question was out of Solon’s mouth before he could think better of asking. Luckily, the viceroy didn’t seem offended. Rather, the man laughed.
“A proper harem must contain both, dear Solon, for how else are you to please all your guests?”
Solon would never understand the lives of the rich or the royal. When he retired from the army, he wanted only a plot of land, a good mule, decent tools, and, if he was very lucky, perhaps someone to share it with, though he expected to end up alone.
