The Slave Princess Part 5
Waking, I wonder, What raiment does the breeze wear On this first day of spring? A fine spun, fragrant mantle Borrowed from the swaying blooms! – The Canticle of Menkeret. Night. I lie in my pallet and, as is now my custom, I listen closely to the nocturnal sounds of the house of Heshuzius. But, after an hour or so of this, my mind inevitably wanders to former times, to the days before my enslavement, to the house where I grew up and its life of happy, carefree idleness. In those days, my...