Freaks: Alive, on the Inside!

My cheeks burned. She lay there in tatters, yet now I heard the voice of a voluptuous woman. And I knew that voice. Excitement and fear knotted together in my throat. It was the voice of the woman who had haunted my dreams. How could this be? “How old are you?” I asked. These had to be the day-dreams of a girl. She couldn’t really be an ancient dancer from the past.

She smiled, and the skin of her cheeks folded like oiled leather and no longer threatened to crack. “How old am I? I have lost count,” she said. “But then … I had celebrated eight-een inundations. I was a woman grown.” Did I detect a hint of self-mockery?

“I changed my opinion of you when you asked about my husband,” she said. “You proclaimed you admired him. How I seethed when you said you wished to discuss theology with him, but a disciple would distract my husband from me, therefore I arranged a meeting. I underestimated my husband’s thirst for praise; he sucked up your attentions like a parched man drinks water. You asked his opinion on the Book of the Dead. You gasped at his collection of rare scrolls, the ones I knew he had bought to impress the pharaoh and never read. You remarked on his taste. I wanted to vomit. You offered to order his library for him, and soon you were a constant visitor and had the run of the house, like a pet.

“Yet you didn’t confine your attentions to my husband. You watched me constantly, and I was infuriated.” She must have stared at this Ankhtifi quite a bit herself, to notice how often he looked at her.

“You don’t remember this?” she rasped. “Nothing?”

I shook my head.

“Where are you, Ankhtifi?” she muttered. She took a rattling breath. “One day everything changed. I came home from the market and found you creeping from my husband’s study with a papyrus roll in your arms.”

I felt the blood drain from my face as I remembered the dream I’d had on my first night in Mrs. Delaney’s house. “I was stealing,” I said in a small voice.

“And I discovered you,” Tauseret answered with delight. “‘Chantress of Hathor, be my ally,’ you begged, and, safe in the garden, you told me who you really were.”

“But I don’t know who I was supposed to be,” I said. This was crazy. “It was just a dream.”

“You were a soldier in the army of Kamose of Thebes,” Tauseret told me. “Sworn to drive the foreign rulers from our land. You gathered information for the rebel army to use. The documents my husband had might save the kingdoms of the sun. I already thought you were beautiful, but now I admired you,” she said, caressing me with her gaze. “Your bravery thrilled me. You were no puppy of my husband’s, but his nemesis. ‘I will return the scrolls once you have copied them,’ I promised. I brazenly slid my arms around your neck and gently touched your lips with mine. You trembled, and I believed it was for fear of discovery or, worse yet, fear of me. Shamed, I released you, but desire ignited in your eyes. You pulled me to your chest, and you kissed me in return as if you would devour me. I lost my breath as your hands turned my flesh to fire and your mouth made hot, sweet honey of me.” She sighed with the memory. “I seduced you in that bower, and you became mine.”

For a moment her voice carried me away, but when I looked at her wizened form, I couldn’t begin to think what she told me was possible. She couldn’t be that girl in the dream, and the dream couldn’t be real. Parts of me shriveled at the idea. Tauseret laughed at her memories of happiness, unaware of my silent rejection, and I felt sorry.

“We met often,” she said. “You brought me poems—sad and yearning for what you could not have all for yourself—then you tried to wipe away that sorrow with desperate pleasure. You were my cat that drove away the snakes.” Her voice still sounded throaty, but richer now, with the hint of a purr.

“I ached that I could not shed my husband like a useless skin, but I was yours alone, despite him, and I gave you a token of that—a scarab ring. The scarab beetle is Khepri the sun, which rises like the scorching heat that rose in my loins for you; the scarab protects the heart and means rebirth. I had it blessed at the temple of Hathor, she who is love, so our love would never die.”

I rubbed the band of the ring on my hand with my thumb, but I dared not look. A peculiar dizziness overtook me.

“I remember clearly,” Tauseret said. “We were by the fountain, and the dance of the water was reflected in your eyes.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I had seen that in another dream the first night I owned the ring. I remembered the clay tile walls of the garden, the abundant flowers, and a beautiful woman who couldn’t possibly be this corpse.

“I loved that fountain,” Tauseret said. “The sound of the water calmed my spirit, and the lotus flowers that grew there delighted me.”

“The lotuses grew in the still pool at the center of the garden,” I blurted out. “The fountain had lotus-patterned tiles on the rim.” I choked on my last word. I had scared myself.

“Yes, you are right,” she exclaimed. “And you remember!” She slowly closed and opened her eyes in satisfaction. “I asked you to keep the ring always in remembrance of me.” Her voice trembled with excitement. “The centuries have passed, but you were true to your word, you wear my ring still.”

“No,” I said, my fist clenching. “How could this be that ring? It was given to me less than two months ago.”

“Do not deny me,” she pleaded, her voice full of hurt. “Look on the back of the stone.”

I removed the ring and searched within the band, using my left hand to shield it from her view, but I already knew she would tell me what lay there.

“I had an inscription carved on the back of the scarab,” she said. “First is the half circle that represents the ‘tuh’ sound that begins my name. It looks like the rising sun of rebirth. Second the ankh—a looped-top stick with a crossbar; it is the symbol for life and the sound that begins your name. Thus, we were joined in heart, in life, and in rebirth.”

I swallowed hard. Indeed, the symbols on the back of the scarab were a half circle and a sort of cross. There was no way she could have known they were there unless her story was true.

“It is a spell that plays with words,” she said. “For the sym-bol ‘tuh,’ which looks like the rising sun of rebirth, is really a rounded loaf of bread. The loaf of bread might make someone think of another symbol, ‘dee,’ which is also shown as bread of a different type, and together with the ankh means ‘given life,’ which is the spell written in tombs to ensure a person might live forever. Remember, the scarab beetle means ‘rebirth’ also, so I gave you a symbol of rebirth three times over—a magic number. I believe that ring has sustained our love over the centuries.”

How could I deny what she said? For when I had put the ring on my finger and laid that hand on her breast, that’s when her eyes had opened. I had given her life. “What happened to you and Ankhtifi?” I whispered, afraid to know.

She looked upon me with a gaze that was oh so sad. “You discovered plans for the deployment of mercenaries,” she answered. “Excitement made you rash. You caught me in the empty corridor outside the kitchens and told me you must return to Thebes with the information. I pleaded with you to take me along. I would forgo my dowry to be free and divorce my husband in Thebes. You were afraid for my safety but finally agreed. You met me that night in the gardens. If only I hadn’t begged you to come back for me, you would have been safe.” Eons-old torment sobbed in her voice.

I knew what was coming. Someone in the kitchens had overheard our plans. We would be caught. We? When had I accepted that? “Your husband,” I murmured. “He said if you condemned me as a spy, said I had forced myself upon you, he would protect you.”

“He wanted to protect his name, that is all,” she answered.