In the House of Iput: Ancient Egyptian Romances

By Danielle S. LeBlanc

Egypt, 2989 B.C.E.

Inside a beer house in the ancient city of Thinis

Iput knows exactly what to do when a thief breaks into her uncle's tavern in the middle of the night; threaten him at knifepoint and force him to run away with her, of course. It's the will of the gods, after all, as prophesied in her dreams. It isn't until the handsome thief steals all her worldly goods and abandons her that she begins to suspect the gods hadn't planned in her favour.

 

When Nasha attempts to burgle his former home, he absconds with much more than planned – a fortune's worth of precious stones and a mad concubine. As they make their escape, however, Nasha begins to suspect that the woman might just be the one who saves him instead of the other way around.  

 

Sixteen years later

Nasha seeks out the woman he left behind. But can he win her back, or does too much time and heartbreak stand between them? And can she trust his intentions, or is this just another deception?

 

Follow Iput and Nasha as they flee their old lives in search of fortune and redemption along the River Nile.

***

Each novel in the series is a stand-alone, and can be read on its own.

Books in the Ancient Egyptian Romances series:

1. In the Court of Kemet

2. In the Temple of Mehyt

2a. The Anubis Mask

2b. In the House of Iput

2c. The Cinnamon Garden

3. The Draughtsman's Daughter

4. Lady of the Caravan

4a. The Caravanserai Bride

• Language: English
• Publisher: La Venta West
• Release date: Sep 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781988205007

Book preview

LA VENTA WEST, 2019

Copyright © 2019 by Danielle S. LeBlanc

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in Canada by La Venta West. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Attributions for cover art

This cover is a compilation of public domain images, purchased images, and modifications of the following:

The Goddess Nephthys - Jeff Dahl - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3287282

Floral frame - Floral Frame (no attribution required) use GDJ on Pixabay

Silhouette of brewer – common use hieroglyph for brewer

Print ISBN 978-1-988205-01-4

eBook ISBN 978-1-988205-00-7

Quick Reference for Ancient Egyptian Words

AFTY – brewer

Arn-t – a beer pot

Henqt – beer

Iteru – Nile River

Khen – marketplace

Mt-Hnt – a concubine

Stef – foam, or froth of beer

Sura heq-t – beer house, tavern

Prologue

2973 B.C.E. – OUTSIDE the House of Iput in the town of Thinis

NASHA MOUNTED the stone stairs alongside the large mud-brick tavern, keeping his gaze down to avoid the bright streaks of afternoon sunlight. In the courtyard below, a hot breeze swirled dust and dried sycamore leaves over the hard-packed sand before moving on to flutter through the pale green papyri reeds lining the banks of the Iteru, the great river that sustained Kemet.

Trepidation warred with hope, stifling him more acutely than the day’s dry heat. Sixteen years was a long time to make up for.

Iput was just as likely to bash him over the head with a cooking pot as she was to greet him with open arms.

Never mind that Nasha’s memory of their brief and tempestuous time together was the only thing that kept him going all these years. From the first night he’d met Iput in this very same place, sneaking in through her uncle’s door, to their last, lingering kiss. Right before he’d said goodbye.

Reaching the second-floor landing, Nasha hauled in hot, dusty air.

Iput was going to kill him.

Not that he didn’t deserve it. 

Nasha lifted his hand. His scarred knuckles ached as he made a fist, a reminder of just what had kept him away from her. Then he brought his hand down on the door three times in rapid succession.

He waited, opening and closing his hands against the familiar pain. When no one came, he lifted his fist to knock again.

That same moment, the door swung inward. Nasha’s breath seized in his throat. Iput stood in the doorway, blinking against the sun. His greedy eyes roved over her elegant features and sensual body, garbed in a fine linen robe. Full, heavy breasts and long legs as graceful and alluring as ever. By the gods, she was still a stunning woman.

Up close and in bright sunlight, he could see the signs of aging he’d missed from a distance the night before, when he’d snuck into the sura heq-t – the beer-house – to watch Iput reign over the place in all her glory, like the queen of Kemet herself. Now he saw the fine lines around her eyes and mouth, and the henna that darkened her short hair to hide the grey. None of this did a thing to detract from her splendour. If anything, she’d become more majestic.

His groin tightened. Clearly, his body’s reaction to her hadn’t changed either.

Nasha saw the moment Iput recognized him, the widening of her pupils, the way they took in his bare, muscled torso and the bright, crisp white of his fine linen shenti, down to his expensive, leather sandals. Not at all like the sandals she herself had once braided out of papyri reeds cut down during their travels together. Her eyes narrowed at his well-groomed feet, as if they were the offending parties rather than the man attached to them.

Over the years, Nasha had tried countless times to envision what he might say at this point, but nothing was ever adequate. Now he wished he’d come up with something, at least. For lack of a better option, he tucked his thumbs into the top of his wrap skirt and grinned. Like an idiot.

Hullo, Iput.

You, she hissed, her delicate nostrils flaring with fury. I knew it.

You’re looking well. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe.

And you should be dead, she fairly spat, pointing a henna-darkened fingertip at him. I’d hoped you were, rather than what you did.

I thought maybe we should talk about that.

"Talk? May Ammit eat your heart out, you blood-sucking jackal! Sixteen years, Nasha. Sixteen years. And now you want to talk? You won’t get a thing from me this time. I wouldn’t give you a single grain of barley if you were starving to death at my feet. She pinched a finger and thumb together near his face as if holding that grain. And now you show up on my doorstep looking like this?" She swept her hand up and down to gesture disdainfully at his person.

Perhaps she was angry that he was not, in fact, starving at her feet, but well-fed and neatly attired. Perhaps he should have worn a ragged wrap skirt and gone barefoot, or smeared some dung on his cheeks in a show of contrition.

You abandoned me, you son of a... she stopped, jaw tight, knuckles going white around the edge of the door. Forget it. You’re not worth it. 

Her glorious breasts, ensconced in a linen robe cinched at the waist with a braided belt, were rising and falling as tumultuously as a storm-tossed ship. Her short hair was mussed, as if she’d just risen from bed. An image of her long, slim legs wrapped around his hips rose to mind. Nasha pushed it aside. Not now. And, if he were to hazard a guess, probably not ever again, given the murderous look on her face.

Nasha took in a deep breath, trying to gain some control of the situation. She hadn’t slammed the door in his face yet, so there was still hope.

Please, Iput, he lifted one palm up in appeal. I’d like to explain.

She shook her head, a sad, weary expression sweeping over her face that made his gut clench. He’d done that to her. And it didn’t bode well for him.

Go away, Nasha, she said, the fight seeming to die in her, leaving her shoulders sagging. There is nothing for you here.

Nasha was opening his mouth to speak, to find the words that would gain him forgiveness, when suddenly, from somewhere deep in the rooms behind her, a baby let loose a wail.

Iput cursed and turned into the darkened house. The shuttering door thumped Nasha’s shoulder, and then he was standing alone at the top of the stairs, listening to the baby’s cries.

Chapter 1 – Thief in the Night

2989 B.C.E. – SIXTEEN years earlier, outside a tavern in Thinis

NASHA PEERED into the darkness as another cloud passed over the moon, watching the stairs leading up to the rooms above the sura heq-t. Had the man and his prostitute left yet? Or were they still copulating against the wall? Nasha had abandoned his vigil for a few minutes to relieve his bladder in the scrubby bushes when the couple first came outside, having no desire to watch the woman ply her wares, or the man rutting against her. But he was tired of waiting, anxious to sneak into the rooms upstairs and steal back his property.

There, a grunt, a slapping sound, and a moan, followed by the rustling of fabric and the shuffling of feet. A man’s voice spoke in the gloom, and a woman giggled. Their footsteps receded. Nasha waited through another few moments of silence before sprinting from the copse of tall, rounded sycamore trees to the stairway.

He took the stairs two at a time, flattening himself alongside the wall on the landing. With a quick glance below to ensure he wasn’t seen, Nasha opened the door and slipped inside. Ignoring the kitchen to the left, he passed the first closed door on the right. At the second, he turned the handle. The narrow window afforded little light, not with the cloud cover so thick outside, but Nasha knew the way. He stepped inside and strode straight to the far wall, his fingers playing over the bricks to seek the sixth one down from the ceiling, eighth in from the window.

What are you doing? a quiet voice spoke from behind him.

Nasha whirled and crouched, ready to strike out. Who’s there?

No one should have been inside the rooms upstairs. He’d made sure of it. He’d bribed a patron a few days ago, who told him the tavern keeper worked all night without fail. When Nasha asked about a wife, the patron said she’d died months ago. Not only that, Nasha had watched the place for at least an hour tonight before attempting to enter. No one had gone up or down the stairs. And yet, there, on a thin mattress on the floor, sat a figure. A girl or young woman, from what he could tell in the gloom, with a bedsheet over her drawn-up knees. Long dark hair hung in a straight sheet over her shoulder.

Are you here to steal something? the girl asked in a mildly curious tone.

Not exactly. But I promise I won’t hurt you, so long as you keep quiet, Nasha hedged, standing tall now, trying to make himself appear as large as possible, even as he reached behind him, fingers feeling for the loose brick. I’m just looking for something that was mine to begin with, and then I’ll be on my way.

"How about you tell me what you’re doing here, and I’ll promise not to hurt you?" the girl asked softly, rising to stand.

Nasha was about to laugh, but in that moment the cloud cover passed from the moon, and silvery light glanced off the edge of something shiny.

A blade.

The woman was holding a damned blade in her hand and speaking as calmly as if they were old friends fishing off the banks of the great river.

Bollocks.

What he’d planned as a simple in and out had suddenly become a lot more complicated.

The light revealed something else, as well. Shadows obscured her face, but she was most definitely not a girl. Rather, a full-grown woman robed in a thin nightdress, the moonlight revealing much of her figure. High, full breasts, slim waist and hips, and legs longer than any sculptor had ever crafted. The sort of legs most men would kill to have wrapped around their back. And that unusual hair that spilled over her shoulders, where most women kept their hair cropped, or wore a wig.

Perhaps she was a Mt-Hnt – a concubine, one belonging to the tavern keeper.

Well, that was something, at least. Women liked him. Granted, Nasha couldn’t recall one ever pulling a knife on him, but still, he’d charmed his way out of worse situations. And he had to be more charming than the greasy, sloppy barkeep downstairs. Nasha had seen the man two nights ago, when he’d discreetly ordered a bowl of beer and spent an hour or so drinking downstairs, checking out the man and the beer house. When planning a great theft, it was always best to know a little something about the target. Nasha’s father had taught him that.

Except Nasha hadn’t factored on there being a woman in the upstairs living quarters. He was out of practice. All the more reason to get out fast.

Holding one hand up while the other worked the brick behind him, Nasha dropped his voice to a husky, seductive whisper. Listen, sweet, neither of us wants to see the other hurt. I left something here a few years ago, back when my cousin owned this place. Then I got conscripted. You know, smiting the lands of Setjet for our great pharaoh and all that, trying to be a hero. But the campaign is finished now, and I just need to grab this one little thing... he trailed off as he found the brick, fingers scrabbling along the edge.

Stop! The knife flashed in the moonlight as the woman commanded. Or I’ll scream. And there are at least two dozen men downstairs that will hear me. She opened her mouth, her chest rising as she dragged in a deep, deliberate breath.

Okay, okay. Nasha held up both hands. I’ve stopped. See?

The woman stepped closer, and Nasha sucked in air as silvery light spilled over lofty cheekbones, the perfect arches of her eyebrows, and a wide, generous mouth. A stunning woman, hidden away atop a shoddy excuse for a drinking hole.

With looks like that, she had to be a concubine.

Tell me what you’re looking for, she spoke in her controlled voice, the blade in her hand pointed directly at his belly.

Nasha cocked his head, debating whether to disarm her, then decided it was faster and easier to answer her questions. A necklace. I just want it back, and then I’ll leave Thinis and you’ll never see me again.

The woman chewed on her bottom lip, drawing his attention there. She had small teeth, white even in the darkness. A rarity amongst women of the peasant class of which she, no doubt, belonged. Otherwise, she had no business being in this garbage heap. He’d spent years travelling Kemet and the lands to the south, first as a thief, then as a soldier. If anyone knew an inferior sura heq-t, it was he. This one was worse than most. No place for a woman of her quality, unless she was in desperate circumstances.

She suddenly squared her shoulders. Where are you going once you get the necklace? she asked, her glance flicking to the door and back, as if she feared someone might come upon them. Odd, that.

North, he shrugged, hedging backwards to the wall. This was taking too long. The gods knew why the woman hadn’t gone into hysterics yet, but he wanted to be well away from this place when she finally did. 

She followed his movements, though, moving closer. Take me with you.

Shock struck him motionless. What?

I know where there’s more. Take me with you, and I’ll share it with you.

There was an urgency in her tone he could not ignore. She was serious. Are you mad? he asked. Perhaps that was why she was up here alone. A lunatic concubine who’d somehow gotten hold of a knife. Nasha said, You don’t even know me. I could hurt you. Or worse.

She scoffed. You won’t hurt me. You don’t even have a weapon.

His voice came low and deadly. I don’t need a weapon to hurt you, sweet. I have two perfectly good hands. He paced forward, so that the tip of her blade poked his bare belly above the ties of his wrap skirt. She blinked, as if startled to see that she still held the knife, and took a step back. He smirked. "You ought to know better than to underestimate a thief who breaks into a shabby sura heq-t in the middle of the night."

Dismay flashed across her lovely face before her jaw hardened, nostrils flaring with determination. He’s rich, you know, she said, the hand with the knife falling to her side, though the blade still pointed at him. He cheats and steals from his patrons and hides it all. If it’s wealth you need, I can get it. Just promise you’ll take me with you.

Nasha paused, studying her face in the dim light. Her high breasts rose and fell rapidly, her body radiating a nervous energy. Her expression was not exactly pleading, she didn’t strike him as the type to beg. But there was something like hope there, and, irrationally, Nasha didn’t want to be the one to dash it. Even if the last thing he needed was the care of a senseless, runaway Mt-Hnt. He didn’t even know if stealing away with a concubine counted as theft. But if it did, she’d be worth a considerable sum. And his punishment would be unfathomable.

And yet, he could hardly afford to ignore the offer of untold riches.

He cleared his throat. How much are we talking about?

Triumph blazed in her eyes. Get what you came for, and I’ll show you.

While Nasha worked the brick out of the wall, the woman set about throwing things onto a shawl she spread out on the mattress behind him.

Would the necklace still be there? It had been five years, after all. What if he’d gone through all this, only to find someone else had discovered it? Then he’d be reliant on a woman who slept with a knife at the ready, and threatened a dangerous stranger into running off with her. If the necklace was there, he could still renege on his deal. In fact, he hadn’t agreed to anything yet. It wasn’t too late to disarm her, tie her up, and be on his merry way.

Ahh, there it was. Tucked into a depression carved in the brick beneath the one he’d pulled out. Nasha took a moment to unwrap the small linen bundle, verifying it was the same gold-beaded necklace his grandmother had passed on to his mother, who had, for lack of a daughter, passed it on to him. By rights, it should have gone to his older brother. But when it became apparent his brother was no better than their father, their mother had given it to Nasha, telling him it was her most prized possession, and she knew that he alone would appreciate what that meant.

In a way, he had. He hadn’t sold it, or lost it in a gambling match, the way their father had done to everything else that passed through his hands. Nor had Nasha given it to a whore to pay for her services, like his brother would have.

Now, that very valuable necklace would serve to repay a weighty debt. His mother might actually approve.

Tucking the necklace into a sack on his braided belt, Nasha turned in time to witness the lovely – yet utterly bizarre – woman strapping the knife to her thigh with a strip of leather. Then she tied up her belongings in a paltry sack and secured it across her chest to hang at her back.

Come on, she whispered, leading him down the hall to the next room. With a quick glance towards the stairs, she opened the door. Nasha noted there was no lock on the door without surprise. In all his years as a thief, he’d rarely encountered a lock. They were costly things that required a skilled craftsman to tool, and most people had no use for them anyway, owning so few things of worth.

Nasha followed the woman into a bedroom, much nicer than the one she’d been sleeping in. Here, a wide mattress rested atop a raised wooden frame. Whereas the woman had a few baskets stacked upon one another in her room, this room contained a large wooden cupboard, with doors that swung outward.

Odd. If she were a concubine, why not sleep in the nice bed? Unless, Nasha thought wryly, the barkeep had more beautiful madwomen locked away in other rooms. That would explain the apparent lack of wealth spent on the establishment downstairs. The man’s sexual appetites were likely costing him a fortune.

The woman stopped before the cabinet. Lifting up on to her toes, giving Nasha a fine view once again of her long, long legs and rounded bottom, she stretched an arm out, feeling along the top of the cupboard.

Outside, a woman shouted, startling them both. The concubine dropped to a hunch beneath the window. Nasha held still in the doorway, trying to make himself look as small as possible. His heart thudded in his chest.

Then came laughter. A group of people talking and carousing outside. Nasha let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and the woman went back to the cabinet.

Damn, she swore softly as she slid her hand around the top. I can’t reach it.

Coming to stand beside her, Nasha was close enough to smell the heady incense that clung to her skin and robe, reminiscent of cold nights beneath warm wool blankets, bodies twined like smoke rising in the air. 

What do you need? he murmured.

She turned to him, her shoulder grazing his torso, sending his senses on alert, skin prickling with interest. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. He should not be reacting this way, given the circumstances. He’d likely lose his hands if he were caught again. The last time had seen him spend five years campaigning on a fool’s errand for Pharaoh Djer. That remembrance was as effective as leaping into the frigid waters of the great northern sea, freezing any lustful thoughts.

The woman was a few fingers’ widths shorter than him, and at this proximity she had to tilt her face up to meet his gaze. There’s a key up there. She inclined her head to the cabinet. I’ve seen him take it down. It opens a box.

Nasha reached around her, and his chest brushed her back. Nasha ignored her, and felt along the top of the cupboard until his fingers found a small wooden rod. He brandished it, and the woman gave a brief nod. In silence, she opened the cabinet and, from inside, pulled out a large wooden box with a carved front, complete with a small hole on the lid.

This was something Nasha had never seen before. He’d seen wooden tumbler locks on doors before, large ones that required a shaped key to fit in and lift the bolt on the inside, but he’d never seen one this small. Though he’d promised himself no more thieving, he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the item. While the woman held the box, Nasha slipped the carved key into the opening and jiggled it around.

Nothing happened.

Nasha tried again, attempting to lift the bolt inside. Still nothing. They were running out of time, and, looking down, Nasha suddenly had a vision of his arm ending in a stump, forever branded as a thief, unable to find honest work, dying of starvation somewhere. His hand began to tremble, his chest squeezing tight.

A door slammed below, and Nasha jerked, dropping the key.

The woman cursed and grabbed the key from the floor. Inserting it, she quickly opened the box. There, glittering in the moonlight, lay a myriad of semi-precious stones, gold bangles and necklaces, and other metal objects. Nasha’s jaw went slack. The mad concubine wasn’t lying when she said the tavern keeper was rich.

Here, she handed him a small fortune in stones. While Nasha hid his, she parcelled some into a sack at her waist. She reached into the box to grab another handful, but Nasha grabbed her wrist.

No more, he whispered. If we take it all he’ll see right away. If we leave some, we have a better chance of being long gone before he notices.

The woman hesitated, her hand hovering over the box. Finally, though, she shut the lid on the box and inserted the key, locking it again. She replaced the box while Nasha pushed the key back onto the cabinet. Then, treading carefully, the two made their way to the stairs.

Nasha peered over the edge of the stairs and around the side of the building. Seeing nothing but sand and darkened huts, he gestured for the woman to follow him. He crouched low as he made his way down the stairs. Though clouds covered the moon again, obscuring Nasha and the concubine, it was also impossible for them to see anyone else.

Nasha’s foot had just touched the earth at the bottom of the stairs, the concubine one step behind him, when he heard sandals slapping the earth around the side of the building. Nasha turned, hooking an arm around the woman’s shoulders, pushing them both flat against the stairs and covering her body with his. If anyone came upon them they would look like lovers, unable to contain their passions despite their awkward position on the stone steps.

Thankfully, the woman didn’t struggle as he braced himself over her. Instead, her hands came up to his biceps, wrapping around them in silent understanding. She met his eyes. They both breathed heavily with trepidation, and maybe a little something more, now that he was gazing down at her. She really was lovely, with such chiseled cheekbones and lively eyes that seemed to be searching his, seeking something.

For the briefest moment, he rather hoped she found what she was looking for.

Nearby, the scuffing of feet turned into husky whispers. Another couple preparing to copulate against the wall. Nasha closed his eyes and cursed the gods for his rotten luck. They wouldn’t be able to move until the rutting couple finished their transaction. How in the underworld was he supposed to lay atop this beautiful woman, with her breasts brushing his naked chest with each inhalation, her legs tangled with his, and listen to another couple rutting a few feet away?

He tightened his jaw, willing himself not to become aroused under such wretched circumstances. When the couple nearby began grunting and moaning, the concubine’s fingers dug into his arms, and she shifted beneath him, almost vibrated, really. Nasha’s eyelids snapped open.

The woman was biting down on her lips, mischief dancing in her eyes. Nasha stared at her in disbelief.

Stop it, he mouthed next to her ear, inadvertently inhaling her alluring, smoky scent. Her hair tickled his nose.

She made a muffled sound, a suppressed snort of laughter. Can’t help it, she gasped, her breath fanning his neck. As she snickered beneath him, her body jittered, making contact with body parts he’d hoped to keep away from her. When her thigh nudged his growing hardness, a jolt went through him, and they both froze.

Her lips parted, eyes wide. Sorry, she mouthed the word.

No, he shook his head. I’m sorry.

She gave him a small, shy smile, and Nasha felt something deep inside his chest expand. Something entirely unexpected, and entirely unwanted. He could not afford to like this woman, and he certainly did not want her in his care.

Finally, the couple around the corner finished their business and departed. Nasha waited another minute or two before peering over the edge of the stairs. Seeing no one, he helped the woman rise, then gestured for her to follow him. Rounding the corner stealthily, he then sprinted across the courtyard towards the copse of papyri reeds along the bank of the water. Starlight turned the shoulder-height green fronds black in the night, the stalks rustling against one another in the wake of his swift passing.

He was several steps along the path that led down to the river when he heard a body hitting the hard earth, and a grunt. Nasha pulled to a stop and half-turned. The woman lay sprawled on the ground several feet away, looking up at him.

He hesitated. He could leave her. He’d never asked for her to follow him, didn’t want the extra baggage. He had what he needed, the necklace and then some. If the woman went back now, she could sneak back in and tell the barkeep that she’d been asleep when a thief broke in. Or that he’d threatened her. She’d be all right.

Except there was a reason she was running with him. And whatever it was had to be bad enough to prompt a woman to sleep with a knife under her bed, then run off in the middle of the night with a complete stranger. If he left her now, she’d have to go back to whatever that bad thing was.

Nasha cursed. This was the worst possible time to develop a conscience.

Chapter 2 – The Mad Concubine

IPUT HIT THE GROUND with a painful thud, the cold, hard-packed earth scraping at her skin through her thin robe, grit piercing her palms. She panted with exertion as she looked up at the thief, unwilling to beg, and trying very hard to trust in her prophecy, foolish as it may now seem. Back in her bedroom, she’d been almost certain he was the shadowy man she’d seen in her dream. Though she’d had no idea he would be so handsome. She’d also seen herself running in the darkness and, when they were racing across the courtyard, she swore it was exactly as she’d dreamt it weeks ago. 

But she hadn’t dreamt being left behind.  

Iput almost sobbed in relief when the handsome thief stuck out his hand.

Let’s go, he urged.

Iput grabbed hold and let the thief help her stand. He took off running once more, but this time he was holding her hand, pulling her along with him. Iput grinned, holding her robe up with her free hand so she wouldn’t trip again. She was finally doing it, she was leaving Thinis – and her uncle – for good. She was running in the middle