A Roman and his Egyptian priestess - Niksis & Rania Lark

[Niksis]

The crackling of the firepit echoed through the opulent tent that had been his home away from home for the past couple of years. The year, somewhere around 40BC. Legatus Tiberius Atius had come to the shores of Eqypt with a single purpose, to bring it to heel. Accompanied by his entire Legion, the hope was to keep the campaign short and decisive. It had been anything but short and nowhere near decisive. The heat and the sand had slowed the army's advances to a halt as it had been forced to leapfrog from one water source to another. It was at one of these sources that he had ordered camp to be placed, just a few hours away from one of Eqypts many cities. Come daybreak, the vast machine that was his legion would once again be on the move.

What would be the best angle of approach, east? The Roman thought to himself as he studied the map laid before him. Eqypt was vast and his orders left no room for question or interpretation. Eqypt would surrender, or perish. Though if he was to be successful he would have to plan ahead, and plan he did. Spread out across the cloth on the table were several wooden figures, one for his legion and several for the Ptolemaic armies that his scouts had reported. "Legatus, a rider arrives." A voice came from outside the tent, one of the many officers in his legion. "I will be out in a moment." Tiberius straightened himself and made his way outside to greet the rider.

Outside the cold winds of night rustled and pulled at the hundreds if not thousands of tents scattered about the waterhole they had found. The thick fabric had done wonders to shield him from the noise that such a vast gathering of men caused. Laughter carried in the wind to all corners of the camp as the men had gathered in groups around small fires to keep warm. Sentries ever vigilant as they patrolled the outskirts of the camp. Amongst all of the organized chaos, Tiberius could have easily blended in, had it not been for his large form and strong features. Wearing only a wool tunic and a pair of sandals, one might easily mistake the Legatus for just another soldier.

"Report!" He ordered as he came face to face with the rider. His voice was powerful and full of authority. A voice gifted to him by the gods and honed by years of being in command. Even unarmored as he was, his form was large. A seasoned warrior even before he took command and it showed. Just like his voice, Tiberius Atius had been gifted a powerful physique honed in the crucible of war. Broad shoulders and thick arms, there was no mistake that he was, or had been, a warrior. Some might call him handsome, equally blessed with powerful features, short black hair and a trimmed beard.

A man like him was quite the catch back in Rome, though Tiberius had neither desire nor time for such things. He was a Roman legate, his duty was to Rome and only Rome. As such, unlike the other legates in Rome's massive warmachine, Tiberius had no servants or slaves to see to him. Such, in his mind, was only an unnecessary distraction.

 

[Rania Lark]

The god Hapi had blessed the royal city of Khem with a bountiful flood of the Nile and the residents were quick to offer their sacrifices of thanks to the god. At dawn each day, those that carried with them colourful flowers and scented oils would enter the temple and there lay down their sacrifices in worship for the bountiful year that lay ahead. The crops would grow well and there would be much food for everyone. No one would go hungry. Each offering was presided over by a priestess of the temple. She would stand and pray over the sacrifice, her hands clasped around the burning end of a stick of fragrant incense as she sang hymns. Their voices echoed through the open air corridors of the temple as they were carried o the heavens.

Each Priestess wore a wrap of white linen that was tied about her waist and fell completely to the floor. Around her neck was a wide, ornate collar that fell down to cover the tops of her breasts. Their hair was all cut in the same blunt cut that cut across their foreheads in bangs before falling to their shoulders. No priestess wore shoes upon the sacred ground of the temple as she walked slowly and silently through the corridors, only stopping to pray and sing over an offering to please Hapi.

Deep within the temple dwelled the high Priestess. Though she was dressed the same as the other Priestesses that wandered the corridors of the white washed temple, on her head she wore a lattice of golden chains that draped over her hair and down over her eyes to create a sort of mask that indicated her position in the temple. Her skin was tanned from the sun that poured into her chamber while her deep brown eyes were kind and generous, if innocent.

Her name was Mandisa and she had been born into the temple. From the time she was a child, she had been taken to be trained in the art of pleasing the gods. Educated by the best priests in the kingdom, she had learned quickly and impressed each one who tutored her. This had led her to Khem and the position of High Priestess, servant of the god, the highest honour within the temple. She would remain in her own chambers, head bowed in prayer for much of the day as she prayed for bountiful floods and much food for the people of Egypt, for health and prosperity for the unified kingdom under the Pharaoh.

Once a week however she would leave her chambers to make an appearance at a festival or a celebration. She would be prepared with fragranced oils and surrounded by the lower Priestesses as they emerged from the god’s presence to descend amongst the people. Walking slowly, she would smile and greet those that revered Hapi, touched and prayed over those in mourning or in pain, blessed those who were married or were bearing children soon. The city had truly been blessed by Hapi and there would be a festival in a day’s time, one of the largest the city of Khem had ever seen.

The food and drink would be plentiful while musicians filled the streets with music and everyone would be inclined to dance and praise the gods for the bountiful harvest and the growth of the city. People from all the surrounding areas would be in attendance, partaking just as those that resided in the city. Everyone would be equal for one day; all the same in their praises to the gods. And Mandisa would preside over the festivities.

 

[Niksis]

Sleep did not come easy to him that night. News brought by the nameless rider had troubled him well past midnight and well into the early morning. Somewhere deep, he had hoped the Pharaoh would be wise enough to not oppose Rome. Yet news of the Egyptian army rallying ment war was on the horizon. And he knew it meant that lives would be lost on both fronts and it bothered him. Tiberius knew that men died in war, yet the bond formed between him and his men meant he cared for them. He knew most by name, a family not of blood but a family still.

As the sun slowly began to rise from it's nightly slumber, rays of sunlight enveloped the large tent in their warm embrace, waking the Legate. With a stifled yawn, Tiberius went and consulted the map he had studied the night before. A bold plan came to him as he watched the terrain and features of Egypt. A quick and precise strike on the city of Khem would hopefully cause enough of a stir in the Egyptian army that Tiberius could demand their surrender.

A bold plan, he knew. One with plenty of room for failure and mistakes. But he knew that despite the vastness of his legion, an open battle against Egypt would not end well. He was not just outnumbered but also not geared for prolonged fights in the searing heat of the desert. And should open war happen, Khem would provide some sort of defence and ability to funnel his enemies down alleys where his trained and disciplined men could triumph.

Donning his armour once more, Tiberius went outside and riled his men from their slumber. Khem was a few days travel from where they were. Less if they forced themselves onwards. Hoping they would arrive during the festival where most people would lower their defences.

 

[Rania Lark]

The preparations had gone well, with each man, woman and child aiding in the celebration of the Nile God. The Priestesses of the temple worked tirelessly to gather the needed sacrifices and offerings along with the practice of the hymns that would be sung. Colourful, fragrant blooms would adorn their heads and bodies as they joined in the festivities in a day. Mandisa spent her preparations praying to the gods for a happy, joyous occasion that would see good weather and even better spirits.

Thus the morning of the festival arrived and with it the preparations began at dawn. Mandisa awoke with her servants to the rising sun before spending some time in prayer in her chambers before being dressed and prepared for her appearance to the people. As child of the god, she would need to look the part. So, when her prayers were completed, the lower priestesses took to preparing her for the festival.

Arriving to the bathing pool, Mandisa was carefully cleaned of all the dirt and sand from the shifting desert and the mud from the banks of the Nile before fragrant oils were rubbed into her skin, making it glisten in the sun. She was then wrapped in a new linen sheath that fell from her hips to the floor, covering her bare feet. A gold and jewelled collar was then placed around her neck, the large flat piece falling down over her pert breasts to leave only her midriff exposed. Golden cuffs were then fastened around her wrists while bracelets were wrapped around her ankles. The final touch was an incredibly ornate headpiece consisting of numerous interweaves chains that sat like a spiders web over her ebony black hair, some of the chains descended down over her eyes, giving a mask like effect over her large, chocolate brown eyes.

By the time Mandisa was full prepared, the festival had begun. Harps, lyres and lutes sang their praises to the gods as people all over the city departed from their homes to join in the festivities in the streets, dancing and singing along with the hymns. Flowers adorned hair and bodies while also filling the air with their pleasing aromas. Everyone was happy to be blessed for another year by the gods.

Mandisa and her attendants departed the temple, making their way slowly down the steps to partake in the festival themselves. Walking slowly, the high priestess was quick to bless anyone who asked her, laying her hands and praying over those on their knees. Joining in the hymns that were sung. Mandisa enjoyed festival days as it was also a time she could relax herself; her duties completed which opened her up to enjoy herself within the people she blessed.