Sphinx's Princess (2 page)

Almost a year after I tamed my dream-lions, during the Festival of the Inundation, my life began to change as surely as the rising river changes the deepest heart of the Black Land.

The Inundation is always a season of wild rejoicing. It’s the time when the god Hapy, fat and generous, makes the river overflow its banks to bring new life to the farmlands. A good flood means a good harvest, a good harvest means we’ll have more than enough to eat, that our Pharaoh’s reign is blessed, and that the gods love us.

That year, when I was five, the priests of every temple in the city observed the rising of the Nile and declared that their prayers had given us a good flood and a fine harvest to come. All Akhmin filled the streets to celebrate the event with music, dance, song, feasting, and gladness. Sunlight flashed from the brilliantly painted walls of the temples and the enameled gold necklaces, bracelets, and earrings of the highborn men and women. The air was filled with a
wonderful jumble of delicious scents from many food vendors. Everyone seemed to be laughing. Father carried me on his shoulders so that I could have a clear view of the festivities. I was pleased to be able to see everything from up so high, but when I caught sight of the older girls dancing, singing, and playing their harps, rattles, and tambourines, I squirmed like a fresh-caught fish.

“What’s the matter with you, my little bird?” Father asked, grabbing my ankles when I wriggled so hard that I nearly fell off his shoulders.

“I want to get down!” I cried. “I want to dance, too!”

He chuckled, but he didn’t let me go. “You’re not a bird anymore; you’re a kitten, wanting to pounce on anything that catches your eye. Well, little kitten, this dance is to please the gods and to thank them for all that they’ve given us. It’s a sacred thing, not a game for little girls to play at. If you want to dance for the gods someday, you will, but not now. When you’re older.”

His voice was always loud, a trait he’d kept from his days commanding Pharaoh’s troops on the battlefield. One of the dancers who was waiting her turn to perform overheard him and left her group to approach us. I gasped when I saw her: She was so beautiful! Next to her, my dearly loved Mery would have looked like a little brown hen beside a long-limbed, dark-eyed gazelle. The dancer’s eyes were artfully outlined with black kohl, the lids glittering green as the reeds along the Nile, and her lips were tinted the rich red of sunset. I stared, fascinated by the dozens of gold charms adorning her tightly braided wig, but when she smiled at me
and offered me her tambourine, I worshipped her with gratitude.

While I bounced on Father’s shoulders, beating the little instrument with more enthusiasm than skill, she talked to him. At first I paid no attention to their conversation, but I soon began to feel Father’s back growing straighter and straighter, his shoulders tensing.

“That will be enough, my darling,” he said, reaching up to still my hands. “Give the tambourine back to this young woman now and thank her.” I wondered why his voice sounded so strained, the way it did whenever I’d done something wrong that was too serious for him to laugh off.

“Why so eager to be gone?” the dancer drawled, glancing up at Father from beneath lowered eyelids. “She can play with the tambourine a while longer. The child has talent as well as beauty. You should stay at least long enough to see me dance. I promise you, you won’t regret it.” She gave him a strange little half-smile.

I didn’t know what the stranger was trying to do, giving my father such odd, sidelong looks; I just knew that he didn’t like it and neither did I. “I’m done,” I announced abruptly, handing back the tambourine. “Thank you very much. I want to go home now.”

I saw the dancer’s lovely face turn ugly in an instant. She snatched the tambourine from my hands and muttered something under her breath. The only words I could make out were “that child … spoiled.”

“I didn’t spoil anything!” I protested as Father carried me off.

“And you never could,” he said fondly. “So let’s not spoil this happy day by going home
too
soon. There are still plenty of things to see and taste and try. Now tell me the truth, my kitten: Do you really want to go home, or did you just want to go away from that sharp-faced little dancer?”

“Away,” I said. I took a deep breath and added: “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Father exclaimed. “For not liking her? That makes two of us.”

“But I
should
have liked her,” I said. “She was beautiful, and she was kind to me. She let me play her tambourine, and she said nice things about me.”

“My sweet one, beauty and favors and flattery don’t have anything to do with whether or not you
should
like someone. Affection isn’t something you can
buy
, not if it’s real. You still like Mery even when she scolds you, right?”

“I
love
Mery,” I said loyally. “Even if she’s not as pretty as that dancer. She was
much
prettier than Mery, wasn’t she, Father?”

“Hrmph.” Father coughed into his fist, or at least it sounded like a cough. “I don’t think so.”

“You
don’t?”
What was wrong with Father, saying something like that? Mery was nice-looking, but nowhere near as lovely as the dancer.

“No, I don’t,” he said firmly. “Anyway, there are more important things than beauty, dearest.”

“But she
was
prettier than Mery, wasn’t she?” I insisted.

“Let’s not worry about pretty and prettier,” Father said hastily. “And we
won’t
bother Mery with this. Besides, when you’re near, all the other girls look like old crocodiles.
Now let’s go enjoy ourselves!” He broke into a brisk jog that made me shriek with delight as we raced back to the festival.

We arrived home tired and happy that evening to find Mery waiting to share a festive dinner with us. I made a big fuss over how gorgeous our feast looked, but for some reason, Father didn’t do more than glance at it. His eyes were on Mery, who met his warm smile with her own. Even though I was confused, I was also too hungry to wonder about it for long.

While I stuffed myself with roasted duck, fresh bread, and figs dipped in honey, Father sat beside Mery and kept taking the best tidbits of food from his plate, popping them into her mouth with his own fingers. I thought this was very strange. Was something wrong with my beloved nurse that she couldn’t feed herself? Was Father teasing her somehow, treating her like a baby? Before I could put my thoughts into words, Father turned to me, smiling broadly, and said: “My dear little kitten, I have a wonderful surprise for you. I know how much you love Tey, so from now on you’ll be able to love her even more because she’s going to be your new mother.”

I wrinkled my brows, completely confused. “I don’t love Tey!” I objected. “I don’t even
know
anyone named Tey, and anyway, I don’t need a new mother. I have Mery.”

Instead of thanking me for being loyal to her, Mery laughed and scooped me onto her lap. “Oh, my darling Nefertiti,
I
am Tey,” she said, twirling my lone lock of hair around her long, gentle fingers.

“No, you’re
Mery
,” I said firmly, wondering why my
nursemaid was saying such silly things. “That’s your real name; it’s what I always call you!”

Father put his arm around Mery’s shoulders, embracing us both. “And
I
call you my little kitten,” he told me. “Does that make Little Kitten your real name? Well, then! It’s the same for Tey: As soon as you were old enough to talk and to learn the word for Beloved One, that’s what you called her. But it doesn’t change the fact that her mother named her Tey just as yours named you Nefertiti. Do you see?”

“I … think so.” It was a lie, but I didn’t want Father to think I was stupid.

“Never mind any of that,” my nursemaid said, holding me close. “I’m still your Mery. You don’t need to worry about calling me anything else unless you want to.” She pressed her cheek to mine. Her skin was soft and warm and smelled like cinnamon. “So, are you pleased?”

“With what?” I asked. The whole business of names had distracted me so much that I’d forgotten to think about the more important part of Father’s “wonderful surprise.”

“With me becoming your father’s new wife, of course!” Mery said, her face filled with joy. “And your new mother.”

Well, I
was
happy to hear that Mery was going to be a part of our family; there was no question about it. Mery was the only mother I’d ever known. There was nothing “new” about her at all, except for the way I saw Father gazing at her. I’d never seen such a look in his eyes before, and for some reason, it irritated me. I suppose he must have been looking at her that way for a long time, except I’d been too
busy with my games and toys and playmates to notice. Now that I did … I didn’t like it. It reminded me a little of the way that dancer had looked at
him
.

Father was supposed to be
mine
, and only mine. Didn’t they know that?

And so, even though I loved Mery with all my heart, I couldn’t bring myself to say a single word to welcome her into our family. I only sat there in her lap, my thin little arms folded, my head resting against her heart, and I began to cry.

“Isis have mercy, what’s the matter with her?” I heard Father slap the arms of his chair impatiently and stand up. His shadow fell over me, wavering in the light of the oil lamps brightening our evening meal. “It makes no sense. I know she’s fond of you, and she can’t possibly remember her mother, so why is she crying? Nefertiti! Nefertiti, look at me! Tell me what’s wrong.”

His voice was so harsh and insistent that he didn’t sound like Father at all. I gave a little whimper of fear, threw my arms around Mery’s neck, and buried my face against her shoulder.

“Shhh, let her be, Ay,” Mery said softly. I didn’t realize it then, but that was the first time I’d heard anyone call Father by his name, Ay. I felt my nursemaid—my new mother—stand up with me in her arms. “She’s just overtired. Children need their sleep. I’ll put her to bed and you’ll see that everything will be fine in the morning.”

Mery was right: I did feel better the next day. My life had altered, but only in a few small ways, nothing to shake the earth or pull the stars out of the sky. Mery began to wear
finer clothes, and she no longer slept in the room next to mine unless I was sick; that was about the sum of the changes. I did catch her sitting on Father’s lap out in the garden, and sometimes I surprised him kissing her, but the two of them always made such a big fuss over me when that happened that I stopped feeling annoyed with their silly winks and whispers and enjoyed the attention.

As happy as I was to have Father take Mery as his wife, I’d never suspected that the two of them were in love until they told me so. When the following year brought the next change into my life, it was no surprise. I knew all about it long before it happened. It’s almost impossible to keep the birth of a baby secret. My beloved Mery began to grow fat and fatter with each passing day. I’d seen enough pregnant women in the streets of Akhmin to know what
that
meant. By the time Father and Mery decided to tell me about the baby, it wasn’t news to me. I think they were disappointed by my indifference.

That
changed on the day of the birth itself. Mery and I were eating breakfast together when suddenly she gasped and staggered to her feet, her hands on her belly. Before I could finish chewing the bit of bread in my mouth, a whirlwind of shouting servants, running slaves, and bustling strangers swept through our house. Our oldest serving woman herded me toward the garden in spite of my hungry protests just as two unfamiliar women—the midwives—came hurrying past me, bound for the bedroom where Mery had vanished. I was still arguing with the slave about my abandoned breakfast when the younger midwife found me and let me know I had a new sister.