Wednesday, 17 October 2007

The Sweet Wind

Travel with me through time and to a far off distant land! I love this setting and I wonder why I haven't included it more in my writing.

I am standing on the shore of the Great River, the sweet Northern wind is rustling my hair and plays with my thin linen dress, makes it stick to my body, makes me feel naked. It is sweet to stand here, overlooking the river, overlooking the world.

The girl will not leave my thoughts. I can't understand why she lingers, why she won't go. I can't get her out of my head.

I have done my duty, I have many duties. I am the daughter of the high priest of the temple of Osiris and the wife of the Overseer of the King's Works. I have many duties. This morning I went to the temple of Isis. I paid the priest to burn the incense before the Goddess. I stood in awe at the beauty of Her temple. The columns grew like papyrus in the marshes at the day of creation. The coolness of Her shaded courtyard made me tremble with delight and the paintings on the walls made me shiver with desire for Her blessing. She is the Queen, my Queen and I am Her. In some small way, I am Her.

I went, then, to the market. I had things to buy, things I couldn't trust others with. The servants don't know good linen from bad and they can't smell the difference between the different brands of sandal wood. Some things I have to do myself.

The foul stench of the street assaulted my nose and the closer I got to the market, the worse it got. I looked at Little Girl but she seemed unaffected by it. She is sweet, Little Girl, and she is strong. I love her very much. She is very good to me and she carries my bags. I would not go to the market alone.

Then I saw her, the other girl. The one that won't go away. The girl I have in my head and who won't be swept away by the sweet wind from the North.

It was in the slaver's market. She just stood there. The street was bustling with life and the cries of babies and mad women and merchants but she just stood there. Her back straight, her weight on her left leg, one arm hanging free, the other at her hip. Her head was held up high. Her black hair tousled and hanging to her shoulders.

She was not beautiful but something in her stance told me she didn't care if she was. She knew she was beautiful. She stood there as if she owned the world and in some way I think she did.

She was naked. She was completely naked, except for the collar around her neck. The gleaming metal resting on her collar bones, hard against soft skin. The chain hanging down between her breasts, the softest and sweetest of breasts I have ever seen. Except for her bonds, she was naked, naked and beautiful. Her body the sweetest body I have ever seen. A proud body, a soft and sweet body.

By my Queen, I wanted to touch her. I wanted so badly to touch her.

As I drew closer she turned her head and looked at me. She was a slave, she looked down but in the short moment she looked me in the eyes I saw something. Was it Her? Was it beauty? Was it pride?

How could she be proud? She was the slave, she was the body owned. I was the free one, the daughter of a priest.

Still I knew, in that short moment, I saw in her eyes that she had known pleasures that I would never ever dream of. She had been touched in ways I would never be. I saw who she was.

My eyes lingered on her soft skin, saw the glow of perspiration on her sweet body, her sweet and proud body. She was naked and I was clad. She was proud and I was shaken.

Isis, how I wanted to touch her.

The wind is sweet and this is a good place to be. The River comes from the Gods and return to the Gods and it is a delight to see it pass by.

I could have bought her. I have the means. I am the wife of the Overseer of the King's Works. I could have bought her and brought her home. I could have had her naked in my chambers, I could have had her dance for me and please me and I could have touched her to my heart's desire. I could have had her enter my bed in the night with her proud body. Why didn't I buy her?

I guess, she was not mine to buy.


Ofia said...


And I can't believe I haven't had your blog linked before today. That's fixed now.

Masquer said...

Lovely is the right word. You are right -- you should go here more often -- take us there, I should say.

Paul said...

Janice, this is beautiful, thank you.
Warm hugs,

Janice said...

Thank you Ofia, no worries and thanks.

Masquer, thank you for your words. I will think of more stories set in Ancient Egypt, great place for slaves and whippings...smiles.

Thank you, Paul, I am glad you liked it.

Dove said...

Just beautiful Janice. The free woman seems to envy the slave. I do too, if only a little.


Janice said...

Dove, I was thinking along those lines as I wrote it...and some great images in my head of naked slave girls in chains and who wouldn't envy them a little?