Sphinx's Princess (30 page)

Sitamun shook her head. “You might as well ask a lioness if she wants help raising her cubs. All that we can do is wait.”

That afternoon, Nava came to me with a piece of broken pottery in her hand. I thought she was bringing me her latest writing lesson, seeking help with a difficult symbol or idea. I did think it was odd that she had it on a shard instead of on the waxed board she normally used. Then she handed it to me, and I gasped to read:

Greetings to you, Nefertiti, from Amenophis, who is forever your friend.

I wish we could meet. No one would notice. My mother’s eyes are elsewhere. My brother is always busy, either with her, or with Father, or at the temple of Amun, may the god send his healing to Pharaoh soon. I am so afraid. If we could meet and speak, your kind words would comfort me. May the gods bless you.

I crushed the shard into powder and told Nava to fetch me her practice tablet. “Will you carry my message back to him, Nava? Please?” I asked as I scratched the words into the yielding wax. The child nodded eagerly. “You’ll have to be very careful. No one else must see this. Do what you can to make sure no one sees
you.
” I handed her the finished letter and watched as she ran to deliver it.

She returned with his reply scrawled across the tablet:
Noon. The stables. I have shown Nava the way. Let her lead you.
When the sun was directly overhead and the palace sank into midday rest, Nava brought me there.

Amenophis was waiting. He was familiar with the stables, going there every day to visit his horses, harnessing them to his chariot for a good gallop and practice with his hunting bow. He knew which parts of the building were the busiest and which were unused. From the look of the healthy spiderwebs in the empty stalls, he’d chosen a section of the stables that hadn’t been occupied for a very long time.

We spoke in whispers. Mostly I listened while he poured out his troubled thoughts. He loved his father and he was as terrified as a little child of losing him.

“Don’t despair,” I told him. “Pharaoh—your father is a strong man. He’ll recover.”

“I pray you’re right,” Amenophis said. “I pray to all the gods who have the power of healing, but I don’t see any change.”

“I pray for him, too,” I said. “But I only pray to Isis.”

“That might not be enough. You should also call upon Amun, Thoth, Imhotep, Anubis, even Sekhmet!” Even though he was so concerned about his father, he was still able to spare a warm smile for Nava and say: “Maybe our little messenger worships gods of healing that we don’t know. Well, Nava? Will you add your prayers and your gods to ours, to help my father?”

Nava shook her head.

“Nava!” I was shocked by her response. “Why won’t you help Amenophis’s father?”

Again, Nava shook her head, then wrote something on her tablet and showed it to us:
One.

“One?” Amenophis repeated. “You have just one god of healing? But that’s all right, he—or she—might be powerful enough to help.”

The child shook her head a third time and jabbed her sharpened reed forcefully at the lone word she’d written. She looked ready to burst with annoyance. What was wrong? Then I remembered the first time she’d used her writing to thank me, to say she loved me, and to tell me her true name. What else was it that she’d written?

May the One bless you always.

“This isn’t just your god of healing, is it?” I said, cradling the child’s cheek in my palm. “This is your only
god.” My words worked magic. Nava’s frown vanished. Radiant with joy, she dropped her tablet and flung her arms around me. When she looked up at me, her lips moved as if she were trying to speak, but all that emerged were the same rough, uncertain sounds I’d overheard when I’d left her alone with Thutmose’s cat.

And then, so very hard to hear that it sounded like the voice of a ghost, Nava whispered: “Yes.”

Did I hear that? Did she really speak or do I want her to speak so badly that I’m hearing things that aren’t there?
I couldn’t let it go; I had to know. “Yes, Nava,
yes
!” I cried. “Please, don’t be afraid, talk to me!”

Oh, what a fool! I wanted to encourage her; I only scared her back into silence. Her small hand flew to seal her lips and her eyes widened in horror, as if she’d caught herself committing a crime. She whirled about, stooped to grab her tablet, and flew out of the stables. I let out a moan of disappointment.

Amenophis patted my shoulder. “I heard it, too,” he said.

“You did?” How could something so small have the power to make me so happy?

“Yes. She will speak again, Nefertiti. You—we have to believe it. But she’ll only do it when she’s ready, not when you or I want her to do it.”

“If only I hadn’t talked to her just then …” I shook my head over my own rashness. “How stupid.”

“Stupid? You? Never. You’re impetuous,” he said.

“It’s been over a year since she lost her voice. Sometimes I lose hope that she’ll ever recover it.”

“And I—I wonder if Father will ever be well again.”

I smiled at him. “You and I will just have to learn to wait for what we want most, Amenophis.”

“And pray.” He gazed after Nava and grew thoughtful.

We didn’t spend much longer together. We didn’t dare risk discovery. Before we parted, we agreed that it would be wisest never to meet in the same place twice in a row.

“I know the palace better than you,” he said. “I’ll send word when I’ve found a spot that’s out of my brother’s sight and not too overrun with other people.”

“Or it
could
be overrun,” I suggested. “No one can blame us for speaking if we happen to meet in the middle of a crowd.”

“Ha! That’s good. See, I
told
you you’re smart!” Those few kind words of his pleased me more profoundly than all of the empty praises and flattery I’d heard since coming to Thebes.

And so the game began, the challenge of finding enough times and places for Amenophis and me to speak with one another without attracting notice. Nava’s practice tablet had to be recoated at least twice because we wore away the layer of wax with our messages. Our meetings were brief, and I did miss the times we’d been able to ride freely through Thebes, but I didn’t dwell on what was now beyond my reach. It was enough to know that we
could
have them, and that no one could destroy our friendship.

Someday I will be free again
, I thought.
May Isis help me, I will find a way. And when that day comes, Amenophis, you and I won’t just return to the temples of Karnak, we’ll travel everywhere!

Almost a month passed and Amenophis sent Nava to me with word that he had great news.
Come to the stables again, the place and time you know. It will be safe.
Nava and I got there before he did and were amusing ourselves by trying to play catch with wayward wisps of straw when he came bursting in. He was so happy that he looked ready to sprout wings and fly.

“He’s better!” Amenophis cried, his joy making him forget the need to keep our voices down. “Father is
much
better. He made such an improvement overnight that when I left his rooms, the magicians and the doctors were still fighting each other, trying to claim the credit for it. If you ask me, it was all Mother’s doing. Father told me that she made it very clear to him that if he died, she’d follow him to the Afterlife and make him miserable for all eternity.”

“She
bullied
him back to health?” Knowing Aunt Tiye, I wasn’t surprised.

We spent the remainder of our time rejoicing over his father’s improving health and talking about what sort of thanksgiving offerings we should make to the gods. Neither one of us thought about what Pharaoh’s recovery might mean to our little game.

Within a week, Amenophis’s father was holding court and looking after the business of ruling the Black Land. Formal receptions and banquets for important visitors resumed, though the evening’s festivities ended much earlier than before. Pharaoh Amenhotep was well but not the man he’d been. His broad face showed more lines, his cheeks sagged, and his skin had lost its healthy glow.

As the season of the Inundation waned, ambassadors
came to Thebes. They brought tribute from one of the many petty kings who ruled the land of Canaan. Sitamun told Nava and me about the audience that was planned to receive them.

“It’s going to be splendid, of course—Father always says that the more impressive you make yourself look to your neighbors, the more likely they’ll be to think twice before picking a fight with you. But I’m afraid it’s not going to be everything he wants it to be. Mother is doing all she can to cut the ceremonies short. She’s watching Father so closely these days, afraid that he’s going to overexert himself and get sick again! Oh well, I’m sure that however much she shortens the event, it will still be the most remarkable sight those Canaanites ever saw.”

When Sitamun said
Canaanites
, Nava pricked up her ears, then began scribbling madly on her tablet. When she was done, she urged us to read it:
My people are Habiru. We come from Canaan. My sister told me so. I want to see my people.

Sitamun didn’t understand why Nava would make such a request. “These Canaanites
aren’t your
people, Nava. I think they might be Amorites or something, not Habiru.” But Nava insisted, tapping the last sentence on her tablet repeatedly, her eyes pleading.

We decided to give her what she wanted. What harm would it do? As royal princesses, Sitamun and I were free to attend the ambassadors’ reception with as many personal attendants as we liked. That was how I happened to be present when Pharaoh made the announcement that this would be the last court event for some time to come.

I’d heard him address the assembled nobles, priests,
and petitioners before. I knew he would speak to them in the affected, artificial style that tradition demanded on such occasions. When he spoke so pompously it always made me want to giggle, because Pharaoh himself was one the most down-to-earth people I knew. Since it would never do for a princess to giggle when Pharaoh spoke, I prepared myself to keep a straight face.

I couldn’t prepare myself for what I heard him say: “It is my will to travel to Dendera, to the holy temple of Hathor, the Golden One, the Lady of Life and Beauty, there to worship the goddess for the blessings I have accepted from her. It is likewise my will to depart tomorrow, accompanied by my beloved Great Royal Wife, Queen Tiye. Because of the love I have for him, my son the crown prince Thutmose will be my eyes, my ears, my hands, and my mouth here in Thebes until I return. When he speaks, hear my voice! So will it be.”

I smothered a gasp.
Thutmose to reign here, in Pharaoh’s place? O Isis, no!
I stole a glance at the crown prince, who was ascending the steps of the throne to stand beside his father. He was grinning like a crocodile.

Pharaoh Amenhotep and my aunt Tiye departed for Dendera the following morning. The royal ship that would take them there was twice as sumptuous as the one that had carried me to Thebes. Even the oars were gilded, and the cabin in the shadow of the towering mast was a finer shelter than many common people’s houses. I stood under a blue and gold striped canopy on the dock, watching as the helmsman turned the ship’s prow into the current. The painted sail
remained furled; the wind wasn’t favorable for a downstream journey. Even though the current was on their side, the sailors had to man the oars if they hoped to make any significant progress.

The ship seemed to take an eternity to pass from sight. Thutmose had commanded that all of his sisters, his brother, and I witness Pharaoh’s departure. We were ordered to remain standing where we were until the royal ship was truly gone. My legs ached. Sweat trickled down my spine and my mouth became parched. I could hear the priests of Amun chanting prayers for a safe journey, but when I tried to turn my head to see them, a strong hand closed on my shoulder.

“Show respect for your Pharaoh, Nefertiti,” Thutmose said, his voice making my skin creep. I tried to edge away from his touch, but his fingers tightened.
“Respect,”
he repeated.

When we were finally permitted to leave, I took off as if a pack of hyenas were after me. I didn’t stop running until I was back in my rooms, letting the cool shadows calm me. I was all alone. Nava came and went as she liked. She was growing up and growing bolder. It made me happy to see how much more independent she’d become in only one year’s time, but now I was the one who needed somebody to cling to, and I wished she’d been there for me.

“Nefertiti?” I heard Sitamun’s voice calling me from the out room. “Nefertiti, are you in here?”

“Back here, Sitamun!” I called. When she joined me, I sat at the edge of Nava’s small bed and motioned for her to
take a seat on mine. We sat facing each other in silence for some time.

Finally Sitamun took a deep breath and said, “Well, little sister, are you planning to spend the rest of your days hiding away in here?”

“Just until Pharaoh comes back from Dendera,” I replied with a smile. “Please remind my servants to shove a plate of food under the bed for me from time to time.”

We laughed. Then Sitamun said, “It’s time for our writing lesson.”

It wasn’t. I gave her a quizzical look but didn’t question her. There was something about her manner that forbade any argument. I gathered up my scribe’s pen case and palette and followed her to our customary rooftop classroom. Nava was already there, bent over her tablet, intently copying words from the papyrus scroll that Henenu held open in front of her. He looked up and smiled when he saw me.

“Greetings, little Seshat. We will begin our lessons soon. While you wait, will you please fix that for us?” He indicated a part of the rooftop where the ropes holding up our shading canopy had come undone. “It’s not a good idea to spend too much time under the burning eyes of Ra.”

I looked at the half-collapsed canopy. “I don’t know if I’m tall enough to reach that.”

“Well, I’m certainly not,” the little scribe joked.

“Sitamun is taller than—”

“It’s no job for Pharaoh’s daughter. Try.”