Father had no knowledge of what was to transpire. Mother had the right to enter into contracts, buy, or sell without the help of a man. The foreign women who lived among us had no such rights. Since I was Ramla's child, she could dispose of me as she chose.

While I was physically a woman, since I had not yet separated from my parents' household, I had not attained the rights of an independent woman. Thus, Amenhote was violating no law in paying the price mother charged for me. Technically, he contracted for my services for 99 years, since a free woman could not be sold into slavery, only indentured for life to the one purchasing her. In reality, he would resell me outside Egypt without the niceties of a 99 year contract. This was the unspoken understanding when the contract was written.

Although mother had the legal right to demand to know my whereabouts and how I was serving out the contract, to make such a demand was considered dishonorable. Her knowledge of where I was going came through contacts, but she had no assurance that I would actually end up in King Herod's Court, except for what she divined.

When she signed the contract, she would no longer have any hold over me. I would be alone in a strange land, the property of an evil king, with no protector. Mother had no portent of how long I would be enslaved before I would be of service to the infant king. She had no presentiment as to how, or if, I would escape slavery. All she knew was that the gods had called me. She believed that she would see me again, because in her vision I lifted the lamb god-king and carried him to Egypt.

We left home early in the morning. I followed mother through the market. My senses were almost overloaded as I hungrily feasted on scenes, sounds, and smells that would be lost to me until I rescued the infant king and returned home with him.

We wended our way through an awakening market. The smell of cooking fires, ignited for the morning repast, hung over the city, but the stench of smoldering rubbish wafted on the breeze, intermingling with the odor of animal excrement, the reek of fish, and the occasional whiff of sweet incense. The squawk of fowl and the low of cattle joined with the cacophony of human voices bartering their wares.

A sharp-eyed farmer squatted on a stool hawking his grain. He called out to us as we passed and then spat at our feet when we ignored him. The dirty woman crouched on the ground nearby grabbed my dress, holding up a dead chicken and extolling its freshness. A young woman lounged on a leather square, popping a grape into her mouth and languidly savoring its sweetness while giving buyers a come-hither look. A sailor, with a bag of grain for barter slung over his shoulder, offered to buy mother a drink.

Huddled together under colorful awnings that set them apart from the peasants were merchants offering manufactured or imported goods. Fine linens attracted the eye. Artistically adorned pottery competed with elaborately woven basketry. Incense made from lilies and irises stored in intricately carved containers vied with the aroma of cooking spices.

Behind it all, boats drifted serenely in the harbor, anchored, their sails temporarily lowered, waiting for the sailors to complete their business. I wondered if I would be loaded onto a slave ship headed up the Nile to the Great Sea to deport at some coastal city like Gaza, or join a caravan headed across the desert winding its way from oasis to oasis until it reached Herod's Jerusalem home. Either would be a new experience for me. I had never even touched a camel, much less perched precariously atop one. Neither had I experienced the rock of a boat that evidently brought agonizing motion sickness to some and peace and tranquility to others.

Forgetting the lessons mother had taught, I retreated into my mind, imagining the adventure of the passage to my new home. Thus, I stumbled into mother when she halted beside an innocuous looking tent with a man lounging out front.

"Ah, Ramla," a voice, as oily as his plastered hair and perspiring forehead, greeted my mother. "I thought perhaps you had found another way to satisfy your debt than to indenture your daughter."

"Wha—," I started before mother silenced me with a look, leaving unvoiced the question I started to ask concerning what debt this sleazy merchant referenced.

"My only option is to sell the services of this one," mother answered, with a sorrow she did not have to feign, unlike the debt she had evidently invented as an excuse for the sale. "My only stipulations are as we agreed. She must be sold in the court of a king where perchance she will not be treated harshly, and the kingdom must be far enough away that she will not risk escape and perhaps jeopardize her life."

Grunting his acquiescence, the merchant sat up, his ample belly rippling vulgarly as he wheezed his way to his feet. He pulled back the tent flap and waved us inside.

"First, I must inspect the merchandise," he said with a leer as the flap fell behind us. Inside, lamps burned brightly, making the interior almost as brilliant as outside. The air was heavy and hot. "As you indicated, she is no beauty. Her eyes are too small, her nose overly large and her face exceedingly round. Her hair is coarse, like all Egyptian hair. For my purposes that is good. Herod's wives despise comely servants. His harem has been enlarged too often by a nubile beauty promoted from slave to concubine."

As he sniggered at his own cleverness, I choked back bile that rose in response to this seedy piece of masculine excrement with which my mother was forced to do business. I could not help but wonder how impotent the gods must be if they allowed this slime to be the agent of their business.

He reached up and pinched my cheek. "Her color is good. Hold out your arm, girl."

I bit down on my tongue while he squeezed and pinched his way up my arm and then down the leg he forced me to expose, testing my muscular fitness.

"She is robust," he affirmed. "I can already see the outlines of a promising womanhood. It won't be long before the last of her baby fat is replaced by pleasing curves. Too bad her face mars the effect. It is a shame a slave cannot adopt the veil of the Hebrew. Shrouded she might entice a man to her bed, but when she was unmasked, he would be in for a shock," he finished with a snort.

Moving quickly for such a large man, he reached out with both fat paws and ripped open my dress, exposing my breasts. As I screamed and tried to pull the remnants of my clothing back around my chest, I tasted blood where my teeth had ripped a hole in my tongue.

Stepping between the slave trader and me, mother said sharply, "You will not subject the daughter of Ramla to such indignity. She will not be baring her breasts for this King. You forget whom you deal with, Amenhote. She may travel in your caravan, and I may be at home in my bed, but the gods whisper in my ears. If you so much as touch her, your heart will begin to harden in your chest. That wheeze you have when you exert yourself will haunt your every breath. You will feel tightness and pain here." She stabbed her finger above his heart. "A numbness will travel down your arm. You will not be long in this world. Now, bring her a new garment. The price has just gone up."

The color drained from the merchant's face as he blustered loudly, attempting to hide his fear.

"You overreact, Ramla! I would be remiss if I did not examine her completely. It is better to do so here in your presence than later when other slaves are there to see. I should have given you warning, but maiden girls can be difficult when asked to disrobe. I see that she is in good physical shape and that her dress hides no scars, bruises, or other signs of abuse."

"She also has a good set of lungs on her," he mumbled as he went to a trunk and extracted a garment made of coarse flax, like those of the poorest peasants. "It is better that she discard that linen dress, anyway," he said as he thrust the clothing at me. "Come outside," he concluded, motioning mother toward the door. "Let us leave her to attire herself in privacy."

As I discarded my linen and donned the flax garment, I shivered despite the heat in the tent. I had never before understood why some feared mother. Now I knew. I had seen the naked fear in the man's eyes as mother described what the gods would do to him if he abused me. I knew he believed every word of her curse, as did I. When Ramla spoke in that voice, it was as though the gods possessed her, lending their weight to her utterance. I knew I need not be anxious in Amenhote's presence. All I would have to do is grab my chest and act short of breath, and his terror would return.

By the time I was dressed and emerged from the tent, the contract was signed. I never knew what price mother exacted from the merchant. She had arranged for its delivery to our home. She held in her hand the papyrus with the details of the transaction. It was signed and sealed. I knew that her knowledge of the written word meant the man could not cheat her. His surly demeanor probably stemmed from the fact that what he had thought would be a highly profitable sale for him had turned into a bargain for mother.

Mother hugged me quickly, whispering in my ear, "Remember the lessons of PEEP." Then she was gone and I was left alone with the merchant.