The Bull of Min Read Online Free PDF Page B

linen while Satiah led them in song after song to lighten their hearts as they bent to the task. By the time the evening bell sounded, a clangor that rang rhythmically through the corridors and courtyards of the Temple of Min, her crew of workers were wiping sweat from their brows but could not chase the grins from their faces.
    “Satiah,” Tuya said, laughing, “you know how to make the most dreary task go by in a wink.” She threw her arms around Satiah, who returned the warm embrace. “I don’t know how we got along here before you came stumbling through the temple gate with your feet blistered and swollen.”
    “By Min,” said Iset-Weret , an older priestess with a voice as rich and soft as smoke, “our little Satiah has blossomed like a flower in the sun. It won’t be long before she’s High Priestess, I wager.”
    “Not I.” Satiah waved away their praises with frantic hands. “I’m not worthy!”
    “Pah! There’s never been a worthier woman. Come share some wine with us tonight. We’ll have a game of senet.”
    “You’re kind,” Satiah said, “but I must get to bed early tonight.”
    “Another early morning for the little buzzing bee. Very well, then. Sleep soundly, child. When you’re High Priestess you can send us all to bed early without our wine and senet.”
    It might make them more dedicated workers, she mused, before she could dismiss the unworthy thought.
    High Priestess . She considered the peace she had here in Abedju. Since leaving Harit and Baki, she had worked her way from temple to temple, walking from one town to the next, living off what she could earn as a priestess and the occasional kindness of strangers. The only temples she avoided were Hathor’s. Though it pained her to keep far from the Lady’s side, she knew where Hatshepsut’s eyes and ears would be, and so she served instead at the houses of lesser gods. They were lesser compared to the Lady’s brilliance, but ah, still divine. They were the best times she had ever known, those days of free movement, living off her wits and her charm, maintaining a near-constant state of rapturous communion with the gods. But High Priestess – such an assignment would require her to put down roots, to remain in Abedju. It would be an honor, but a vanishingly small one compared to the great honor the gods had given her already. She needed nothing else. She had the ultimate proof of her devotion, proof of a sanctity no High Priestess could ever hope to achieve.
    Satiah made her way through the quiet corridors as the sun sank red across the wide, gleaming expanse of the Iteru. The evening air was dusty and calm, and filled her lungs with its spicy-dry taste, a satisfaction that was nearly deep enough to quell the hunger that returned to plague her belly. She pressed her hand against her sash once more and heard the grain vouchers crinkle reassuringly.
    She reached the door to her tiny chamber at last, pushed it open on squealing hinges. Besu bent over the small, narrow bed, her broad back to Satiah as she worked. A small bronze lamp was already burning on the rickety table in the corner. Beneath the table was the tiny, dark-oiled cedar chest containing all of Satiah’s belongings: the only furniture the room could hold.
    Besu straightened, lifted the freshly swaddled babe to her shoulder. When the boy saw Satiah, he smiled his pink, toothless grin.
    “Give him here,” she said, and Besu handed him over gently. Beneath her cheap linen dress, the woman’s breasts swung heavy with milk. Satiah pinched the baby’s fat little elbow, smiling in satisfaction. He was growing well, getting strong, though he was small for his age, she knew. She kissed him on his plump, rosy cheek. “Mawat missed her little prince, yes she did.”
    She laid Amenemhat carefully on the bed, where he fussed in his crackly voice. Satiah drew the vouchers from her sash and counted them carefully, subtracted her small share, and handed the remainder to