Blue Gold

Professional Reviews

4.5 Books: "A sweeping epic set in ancient Egypt, this story encompasses life as it was lived then, told masterfully by Ms. Townsend...The detail is luxuriously embedded in a story so compelling the reader will not want the book to end. What I love most about Ms. Townsend's prose is the ability to give the reader an almost holographic entry into life and times long past. You smell the fear, feel the passion, the frustration and anger, and burn under a hot, unforgiving sun, among other delightful stirrings of the senses." -- Honeysuckle, Long and Short Reviews

B review: "Beyond an Egyptian setting, I wasn't sure what to expect with "Blue Gold" as I didn't read the description until after I'd finished the story. And what a story. It's a sprawling 1970s miniseries crossed with a soap opera crossed with the epic sword and sandal movies made only in the 1950s. Plus it's got almost as many characters as Cecile B. DeMille managed to pack into his films." -- Jayne, Dear Author

"The sands of Townsend’s Egypt are blood-soaked, and the halls of her palaces echo with lust and intrigue — and yet, the most interesting part of her novel is how real, how human all of her characters feel (even the supernatural ones). Even while you’re booing and hissing her villains, you’re fully informed as to their motives and might even sympathize a little. Part of this effect can be attributed to Townsend’s keen ear for dialogue and phrasing (when two characters kiss we’re told “their lips met with the greedy accuracy of lovers”) — and the effect is so strong that when all the book’s grandstanding and conniving and personal drama has concluded, readers will be mildly shocked to be reminded that the whole delightfully complicated business happened three thousand years ago. That’s praise indeed." -- Steve Donoghue, Historical Novel Society

Excerpt

"What a man, my father! He has the speed of a leopard."

"My boy, son of my great wife! What a son for a warrior-Pharaoh!"

Sekenenre and Kamose toasted each other again, and the nobles lifted their own tall goblets and drank, pledging allegiance to both. Torches blazed throughout the banqueting hall as men and women dropped off their wigs and entertainers practiced final flourishes in the odd dark corners. Ahhotpe kissed the cheek of the slave-girl who had brought her another perfume-cone and, with a sigh of pleasure and relief, shook off her own wig.

"Allow me." The Pyramid loomed at her elbow. He placed the cooling cone of perfumed grease on her hair. Ahhotpe shivered as the perfume-cone melted and ran in a delicious fine rain down her face.

"Thank you, my lord." She glanced from Zoser to Sekenenre. Her father and younger brother were very drunk. She was very drunk. She looked again at the Pyramid.

He took her practiced smile as an invitation to join her on the couch. Kamose saw but did nothing. And how could she resist a man so much bigger and stronger than herself? Alive with the wine, Ahhotpe was in a mood to enjoy.

"My arms are full of flowers, and my hair is weighed down with perfumes."

She waited for him to complete the verse, as her father would have done, or to lay his broad head in her lap and have her say the rest of the poem, as Kamose did. The Pyramid merely grunted and tugged on her anklet bangle.

"We're betrothed, little bird. I don't want you to keep staring at Kamose."

"I'll gaze only at you, my lord." His face in the torches seemed sleeker, his dark eyes, lined with malachite, lustrous as the beads of his arm-bracelets. Ahhotpe saw new possibilities for Zoser. Being engaged to the man had its advantages.

Two nobles, shouting and throwing bones at each other in an argument over a Senet game, gave Ahhotpe and the Pyramid their opportunity.

"It's getting to be a real riot."

"Father's drunk. Everyone takes their cue from him." Ahhotpe pushed aside a tipsy slave, who fell giggling against her couch. "Why not come and study the paintings in my room? They're by a Keftian artist, and very fine."

The Pyramid cupped her breasts and licked his lips. "Let's go to my room instead, and trade parts."

"Such a coarse expression for love." Ahhotpe, with a drunken little smile, held up her arms to Zoser. He scooped her from the couch like a barbarian, throwing her over one shoulder.

Raising her jiggling head and squinting back into the hall, Ahhotpe noticed Kamose sprawled on purple cushions, ponderously explaining how he had saved Pharaoh's life. Her father, fondling the Pyramid's mother, smiling at everything Kamose said, talked earnestly to a drunken acrobat. None of them saw her undignified exit.

Ahhotpe lowered her head, feeling the broad flanks rub against her face, and ran her thumbs between the Pyramid's legs.

* * * *

Later, lying in the warm dark circle of the Pyramid's arms, Ahhotpe was talking to herself. This habit, born of a lonely childhood, she would never lose. Zoser snored.

"This fat pig who rutted on me and fell asleep afterwards as though I were a slave has done me a true service. Any doubts I had concerning him are gone. Sleeping with the Pyramid has cleared my mind. A pity though, that it was such a dismal lesson."

Ahhotpe smiled and scratched her nails across the man's broad chest. Zoser twitched and rolled onto his back.

"Sleep on, prince pig, and let me puzzle for myself." Ahhotpe drew aside the Pyramid's hairy forearm and wormed out of bed, taking the bedclothes with her. Zoser's hand groped for the covers, and she quirked a golden eyebrow.

"Ah, you must learn to do without. How much better it would have been for you, Zoser, had your mother ever taught a little self-denial. Of course, if she had, I wouldn't be here yet. You wouldn't have let me come until our official wedding night, and then it would have been too late."

Ahhotpe blew him a kiss. "I'm glad you're as you are, pig."

Swiftly, she sped onto the balcony. In this last hour before dawn, the night was as cold as it would ever get. A mist of dew wet her bare feet. She heard a hippo grunt, a donkey braying somewhere, both sounds carried by the Nile. Ahhotpe leaned out and listened to the closer shufflings of the palace night-watch. All was well.

"By Amunwell, why shouldn't I use Kamose's oath?there's the wine cup!"

One hand hugging the covers round her middle, Ahhotpe darted back to the bedchamber and retrieved the silver cup. She and the Pyramid had drunk from this vessel, pledging each other before love. Zoser had drunk from it afterwards, too.

"His mistake." Ahhotpe took up the water ewer and walked back to the balcony. She washed out the silver cup and replaced it on the table, filling it with new wine.

Carefully, she applied new lip-paint and then took a good long draught from the cup. The imprint of her lower lip showed red against the metal.

She sat on the bed and listened to the Pyramid's breathing.

She heard his breathing stop.

She waited.

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