Queen of the Heavens (29 page)

Egyptians from all walks of life gathered along the path leading to the palace and bowed to Sety from the waist. When I approached, I noticed something curious. More than a few lifted their heads, reached out their arms, and with their eyes asked for my blessing. I turned my head slightly from side to side, giving them what they desired with a nod and a smile.

After arriving at the palace, I walked with Sety at his request to his chambers. He immediately removed the double crown and put on the
nems
and
uraeus
, which were lying on a table.

“You were magnificent today at the temple,” I said. “The words flowed from your lips with power and sincerity.”

“I know, though for a time I feared I would become sick again.”

“I could see you were not feeling well.”

“I felt terrible, but when I picked up the crown I began feeling strong and confident and my fear dissolved. No doubt the power of Horus was entering me.”

“No doubt,” I said, “but I sensed there was more.”

“More? What do you mean?”

“You spoke with equanimity and compassion. The strength of Isis seemed to be flowing through you as well, bringing balance to your being.”

“I still feel strong and confident, Tuya. I doubt anything can stop me from making my reign a great one and fulfilling the pledges I made today.”

“You will be remembered throughout the ages, Sety. Never doubt yourself again.”

“I won’t, for now I possess divine power. All I fear is loneliness. Command is always lonely, and with Father gone, I have no one to trust.”

I winced at my husband’s remark. “There’s no need for you to be lonely. You have me, and when your children grow older you will have them as well to rely upon. Allow me to love you.”

Sety looked directly at me, and I saw softness in his gaze. He blinked several times then turned his head away.

“No, Tuya. It’s too late for that. The passion I felt for you ended with the death of my first son and I fear I cannot get it back. Still, you are the mother of the Prince who is my heir, and two fine Princesses. You are a good mother, and I want you to know your position as the Great Royal Wife is secure.”

“Since the birth of the young Ramesses, I never doubted that.”

I turned to leave.

“Tuya,” Sety said as I reached the door. “My compliments. You are most stunning today. I especially like your new wig. It makes you look… like a goddess.”

Tears formed in the corners of my eyes. “Thank you. I plan to wear the wig often.”

As I walked through the palace to my chambers, I looked around at the lavish furnishings. Once, I was awed by the opulence, and dreamt of living here as the Great Royal Wife.

How foolish I was to have expectations. As I stood in the palace for the first time as Queen Tuya, I realized all the wealth in the world could not ease my sadness. I had at one time felt love and passion from Sety as lush as the foliage on the Nile’s banks. By comparison, all the riches now surrounding me were but straw.

I thought back to my childhood, when the
Sem
Priest in Memphis offered to take me into the Temple of Ptah and teach me the ways of those who offered their lives to the divine. I reacted with horror back then at the thought of being torn from my parents. For a moment, I wished I had gone, so that I might be free of the trying life I now was forced to live.

Suddenly, a touch of indigo passed in front of me and a smile formed on my lips.

My sadness will not last, for I still have my children to love. I must find Tjia and hug her, give Ramesses his tiny bow, and bounce Hint-mi-re on my knee
.

XXIX

I sometimes wished time would stop so Tjia, Ramesses and Hint-mi-re would remain children forever. They gave purpose to my existence, and a part of me feared what life would be like when they reached adulthood and no longer needed me to nurture them.

As I watched Tjia and Hint-mi-re grow, I marveled that two girls with the same mother and father could be so different. Tjia was the most predictable but least curious, which I found troubling at first. As my oldest child, I’d hoped she would be more like me. When she turned eight, I asked Tjia if she would like to learn hieroglyphs.

“I’m a girl,” she said. “None of my friends are learning, so why should I?”

“Why don’t you try?” I asked. “Knowing how to read and write has added enjoyment to my life and given me great confidence.”

“You’re different from other women, Mother. Reading and writing is for boys, not girls. I want to be a wife, not a scribe.”

I continued to encourage Tjia to study hieroglyphs. At one point, I tried instructing her myself, but she was a stubborn child who refused to learn. Instead, Tjia concentrated solely on acquiring skills that would make her a good wife.

Tjia practiced the harp and flute incessantly, for she wanted to be able to play soothing music for her future husband. She had little interest in playing the
sistrum
and dancing, however, for this required too much exertion.

Tjia often followed me around the palace as I supervised the household. I taught her how to identify different grades of linen through the tightness of the weave. She asked me questions about the purposes of different oils and where on the body they should be applied. She also paid close attention when I went to the kitchen. Because of her station in life, Tjia would never have to cook, but like me, she would select menus and make certain the food was fit for the finest table.

Eventually, I came to accept Tjia’s limitations and acknowledge her domestic virtues. I wanted my daughter to be happy, so I concentrated on finding her a suitable spouse. I especially liked a boy with the similar sounding name of Tia, the handsome son of Amen-wa-su, a highly placed court official. Amen-wa-su and his wife were most agreeable to my suggestion of an eventual union between Tjia and their son, and why wouldn’t they be? Having the daughter of a Pharaoh in the family would be a great honor for them and raise their considerable social standing even higher.

Hint-mi-re could not have been more different from her sister. She possessed a prodigious intelligence, as well as a desire to learn new things. Tjia, with a roundish face and precocious smile, was attractive, but Hint-mi-re, with high cheek bones, deep-set eyes and lustrous skin was stunning, and I could see she would grow up to be as beautiful as I.

Like Tjia, Hint-mi-re became quite expert at playing the harp and flute, but she learned as well how to dance and play the
sistrum
with grace and elegance. Hint-mi-re also spoke often about the Neters, which pleased me greatly.

“Sekhmet is my favorite goddess,” she said one day just after her seventh birthday as we were sitting in the garden at the palace in Memphis.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because she has the power of a lioness, and I like lionesses.”

“Sekhmet can be fearsome. Aren’t you afraid of Sekhmet, at least a bit?”

“Yes. That’s one reason I like her so much. Being afraid is fun and exciting, as long as you’re not too afraid.”

I smiled at my daughter. “Sekhmet also can be very loving, and lead people to places they might not ordinarily go. She once helped me travel beyond the beyond, where all is bliss and time does not exist.”

“Will she help me go there, too?”

“She might if you ask her. I’ll give you the statue of Sekhmet I prayed to when I was a child. Ask Sekhmet for her strength and guidance, and keep her in your thoughts as you go through the day. If you do, you’ll find her power flowing through you.”

“I will, Mother. I want Sekhmet’s power.”

“This would serve the family well, for Sekhmet is the protector of the Pharaoh,” I said.

“Does that mean I’ll be able to protect Father?”

“At your age, you shouldn’t concern yourself with protecting anyone, my darling, but someday you may find ways to protect your brother Ramesses when he is Egypt’s ruler.”

“Oh, good. Can I marry Ramesses? We love each other very much,” Hint-mi-re exclaimed.

The idea had crossed my mind. When Osiris dwelled on the earthly realm, he married his sister Isis, bringing the power of the goddess into his bed and to his rule. Since the earliest times, Pharaohs often numbered sisters or other close relatives among their wives. I didn’t consider Tjia to be suitable for Ramesses since she always tried to tell him what to do, though he seldom listened to her. While they were children, Tjia’s imperious ways were acceptable, but this would not be so when Ramesses became Pharaoh.

Hint-mi-re and Ramesses, on the other hand, got along quite well. This was not surprising, since both had red hair and were of the lion people. As I watched them naked together, I sensed a fondness that someday could grow beyond the realm of curious childhood play and into passion, dedication and love at its most sublime.

“I don’t know yet,” I told my daughter. “Perhaps you will become one of Ramesses’ wives, but first you have much to learn. Would you like to study hieroglyphs? This will enable you to read about Sekhmet and the other Neters, and more easily learn spells and incantations.”

Hint-mi-re beamed. “Can I, Mother? I don’t want to be like my friends or Tjia. I want to be educated, like you.”

My heart leapt when I heard these words, and I immediately engaged a scribe to teach Hint-mi-re. I instructed him to be demanding with her, but I also insisted he be kind and cheerful. I didn’t want my daughter to be subjected to constant harangues, as I had been with my teacher Pentu.

Hint-mi-re studied hard, and by the time she was ten years old, she had memorized sacred texts and spells and had even written poetry. I was very proud of her.

I felt great pride in Ramesses, too, for he surpassed my lofty expectations in every way. Since I had nourished him with milk from my own breasts, Ramesses grew strong quickly. He could run faster than friends his same age, and in wrestling matches with them, he always won. Playing with his toy bow had served him well, for by the time he was five, Ramesses was capable of drawing a larger bow and sending an arrow to its mark with great accuracy.

Encouraged by his father, Ramesses also practiced with a throwing stick. One afternoon, a month before his sixth birthday, he rushed into the palace holding a duck in one hand and an ivory throwing stick in the other.

“Look, Mother, I killed it myself by the pond in the garden,” he exclaimed.

My joy nearly equaled my son’s as I looked at him grasping the dead waterfowl by its feet. He had hit birds before, but they had always been able to fly away. Now he threw with strength enough to kill.

“Take it to the cooks,” I said to Nebet, who was standing nearby. “Tell them we will have duck for the midday meal.”

“Can I choose the first piece?” Ramesses asked.

“Of course. He who makes the kill should always choose first.”

“Good. I’ll kill us another for tomorrow’s meal.”

As I watched Ramesses rush back outside, the elation I felt at his success was tempered by a hint of sadness as I thought back to the days when I would join Sety by the banks of the Nile as he hunted birds from a boat.
That is the past, and will not be repeated. I must content myself now by sharing in the achievements of my son
.

To my delight, Ramesses’ skills with his mind equaled those of his body. He started speaking while very young, and began to study hieroglyphs soon after he killed the duck. I wanted an even-tempered scribe to teach him, like the one I would choose for Hint-mi-re, but Sety would hear nothing of it. Instead, he found a scribe as dour and irritable as Pentu.

“Scribes needn’t berate their students for them to learn,” I complained to Sety.

“As the next Pharaoh, Ramesses must learn discipline,” Sety replied. “The scribe who taught me was strict as well, and I’m a better man because of it.”

That is a matter of debate,
I thought, but held my tongue.

Sety did not object, however, when I found a priest whom I deemed to be a gentle soul to teach Ramesses about the sacred design of temples. I didn’t expect Ramesses to become expert at this. As Lord Harenhab told me, such a study could occupy men for their lifetimes. Still, I wanted my son to at least be familiar with the concepts of temple architecture, for the responsibility of what and where to build would fall upon him when he became Pharaoh.

I took it upon myself to teach Ramesses about the Neters, as I did with all my children. Even before he could understand the words, I would sit at Ramesses’ bedside and tell him the story of Isis, Osiris, Horus and Seth. Later, I helped Ramesses memorize the story word for word so it would become a part of his soul. As Pharaoh, the power of Horus would flow through Ramesses, and he had a sacred duty to comport himself as Horus did, and Osiris before him.

As he grew older, a slight bend at the bridge of Ramesses’ nose became more pronounced. When I squinted, I thought his nose looked a bit like a falcon’s beak.

Nebet thought so, too. “It is a good omen. Your son is developing the nose of Horus.”

“The power of Horus is beginning to flow through him already, shaping his features,” I said. “Like Horus, he will rule with courage and wisdom, and become a light to the world.”

Even as a boy wearing the side knot of youth on his otherwise shaved head, my son possessed a virility that drew girls to him. As Ramesses’ friends passed the age of six or seven, they lost their curiosity about girls and even found them quite distasteful, but not my son. As he grew older, he seemed to become even more fascinated by girls, and he quite enjoyed the attention they lavished upon him.

Naturally, I began assessing the children of courtiers to determine if someday they would make suitable wives. I particularly liked Nefertari, whose family was one the wealthiest in Egypt. Her mother was beautiful, and I could see the black haired, bronze-skinned Nefertari would grow into one of the most striking women in the realm. I also liked Isnofret, a girl from another wealthy family whom I had no doubt would grow up to be quite lovely as well. Both girls had a healthy glow about them and looked as if they would be strong enough to bear Ramesses many children and nurture them with the love and devotion of the cow goddess Hathor.