The Egyptian Royals Collection (44 page)

“The Great Wife Kiya is ill.”

Immediately, I thought of Nefertiti’s prayer and paled. My father glanced at me and I began to confess. “Yesterday—”

But my father’s hand cut through the air. “Go find your sister and Pharaoh in the Arena!”

I brought Akhenaten and Nefertiti, and though Nefertiti kept asking me what had happened, all I could whisper was “Your prayers have been answered.” We burst into the Audience Chamber. It had been emptied of servants and petitioners. My father stood at once. “This messenger has news for Pharaoh,” he said.

The messenger bowed low. “There is news from the Northern Palace,” he reported. “The Great Wife Kiya is ill.”

Akhenaten froze. “Ill? What do you mean? How ill?”

The messenger’s eyes fell to the ground. “She is bleeding, Your Highness.”

Akhenaten went very still and my father came toward him. “You should go to her,” he suggested.

Akhenaten turned to Nefertiti, who nodded. “Go. Go and make sure the Great Wife gets well.” He hesitated at her kindness and she smiled sweetly. “She would want you to go for me,” she said.

I narrowed my eyes at Nefertiti’s cunning, and when Akhenaten was gone, I shook my head sternly. “What’s happening?”

Nefertiti shrugged off her cloak. “Tawaret answered my prayer, just as you said.”

My father frowned. “Nothing’s done yet.”

“She’s ill,” Nefertiti said quickly. “And she’s certain to lose the child.” I stared at her in horror, and then Nefertiti smiled. “Would you find me some juice, Mutnodjmet?”

I froze.
“What?”

“Find her some juice,” my father said, and I saw what was happening. They wanted me gone so they could speak in private. “Pomegranate,” Nefertiti called out after me, but I was already out the doors of the Audience Chamber.

“My lady, what happened?” Ipu stood quickly. “Why was everyone dismissed from chambers?”

“Take me to my old villa,” I replied. “Find me a chariot that will take me to Tiye.”

We rode the entire way in silence. When we arrived, the house looked the same as when I had left it. The broad loggia and rounded columns shone white in the sun, the cornflowers a dazzling blue against them.

“She planted more thyme,” Ipu observed quietly. She went to the door and a servant answered. Then we were shown in to what had once been my home. There were more tapestries in the hall and several new murals depicting a hunt.
A lifetime of rule and this is what the Dowager Queen of Egypt is left with
. We turned into the loggia, and the queen stepped forward to embrace me. She had heard of our coming.

“Mutnodjmet.” Heavy bangles made music on her arms, and her golden pectoral was rich with pearl. She held me at arm’s length to take in my face. “You are thinner,” she noticed. “But happier,” she added, looking into my eyes.

I thought of Nakhtmin and felt a deep contentment. “Yes, I am much happier now.”

A servant brought us tea in the loggia and we sat on thick pillows stuffed with down. Ipu was allowed to stay. She was family now. But she remained silent.

“Tell me all of your news,” my aunt said happily. She meant about Thebes and my garden and my villa. But I told her about Nefertiti’s birth and Kiya’s pregnancy. Then I told her about the feast and Kiya’s illness. “They say she will lose the child.”

Tiye passed me a calculating look.

“I’m sure my father would never have a child killed,” I said swiftly.

“For the crown of Egypt?” She sat back. “For the crown of Egypt, all that has been done and worse. Just ask my son.”

“But it’s against Amun,” I protested. “It’s against the laws of Ma’at.”

“And do you think anyone worried about that when you were poisoned?”

I flinched. No one mentioned that anymore. “But there’s Nebnefer,” I warned.

“Who’s only seen his father every few months, when Nefertiti lets Akhenaten out of her sight. And do you really think that Akhenaten would let a son rule? He, who knows better than anyone else the treachery a son can bring?”

We were interrupted by my aunt’s old herald. He bowed at the waist. “A letter from the general Nakhtmin. To Her Lady Mutnodjmet.”

I glanced at Tiye. The servants still called my husband “general.” I hid my satisfaction and replied, “But how did this come to be here?”

“A messenger heard where you were and came looking.” He bowed himself out, and my aunt watched my face as I read.

“Our tombs are finished. They’ve carved them and have already begun painting.”

My aunt nodded encouragingly. “And the garden?”

I smiled. She had become a great lover of gardens. I skimmed the papyrus for news of my herbs. “Doing well. The jasmine is in bloom and there are grapes on the vines. Already. And it’s not even Phamenoth.” I looked up and saw the yearning on Tiye’s face to have a real home of her own. Then a thought came to me. “You should leave Amarna and come and see them,” I said. “Leave Amarna and return to Thebes.”

At once, my aunt grew very still. “I doubt I shall ever leave Amarna,” she replied. “I will never return to Thebes except in my coffin.”

I stared at her, aghast.

She leaned forward and confided, “Just because I am not in the palace doesn’t mean my power there has vanished. Your father and I work hard never to have our influence seen.” She smiled ruefully. “Panahesi has succeeded in turning Akhenaten against me. But he’ll never rid Egypt of your father. Not so long as Nefertiti is queen.”

I stared at Tiye in the light of the windows. Where did the strength come from to do what she did? To remain in Amarna and be the power behind the throne while her spoiled, arrogant son sat on the dais?

“It’s not as hard as it seems,” she replied to my unspoken question. “Someday you may understand this.”

“Where have you been?” Nefertiti crossed the chamber in several strides.

“In my villa.”

“You don’t have a villa,” she challenged.

“I was visiting Tiye.”

My sister reeled back as though I had hit her. “While I was waiting for news, you were visiting Tiye? While Kiya was ill”—her voice rose with fury—“you
left
me?”

I laughed. “What? Did you need support for the shocking news that Kiya was sick? That she might lose her child?”

She stood immobile. I had never spoken to her this way before. “What is that?” She was looking at the scroll in my hand.

“A letter.”

She tore it from me and began reading.

“It’s a letter from my husband!” I reached out and took it back.

Nefertiti’s face darkened. “Who delivered it here?”

“How should I know?”

“When did it come?”

“While you were with Father.”

Then I realized what she was saying and my voice rose with indignation. “Why?” I exclaimed. “Have there been others?”

She said nothing.

“Have there been more?” I shouted. “Have you hidden them from me? Nakhtmin is my
husband!
”

“And I am your
sister!
”

We glared at one another.

“I will come to dinner. After that,” I swore, “I am leaving for Thebes.”

She stepped in front of me. “You don’t even know what happened to Kiya—”

“Of course I know what happened to Kiya. Just what you said. She lost the child.”

“Panahesi will be suspicious—”

“Of course he’ll be suspicious. But you will have to watch him alone.”

“You can’t leave me!” she cried, and I turned to face her.

“Why?
Because no one else can? Because everyone else is too awed by your beauty? You have fifty other women at court who will follow you like lapdogs. Have one of them watch out for you.”

I went to dinner as I promised, and Nefertiti tried to test my loyalty by ordering me to find her a special fruit she knew was only kept in the back of the kitchens. I stood up and told the nearest servant to bring my sister a plate of jujube.

“It could be poison!” she cried. “I want
you
to go.”

I gave her a long look, then swept across the Great Hall in a fury. When I returned, my sister was surrounded by a throng of young courtiers. She tossed her head back and smiled when she saw the platter of fruit in my hands. “Mutny, you brought it.”

As though she’d doubted I would.

The women parted so that I could give her the fruit. Nefertiti swore, “You’re the best sister in Egypt. Where are the musicians?” She clapped. “We want music!”

While the girls took their seats, I sat with my mother at the base of the dais, and servants came with roasted gazelle and honeyed lamb.

“It’s how she shows she loves you,” my mother offered.

“What? By making me her servant?”

The music began, and Nefertiti clapped as the dancers emerged, clad in bright linens and bangles with bells. Half a dozen ladies were watching the way Nefertiti drank, holding their cup the way she did, between forefinger and thumb. “How long do I have to stay?” I demanded.

My mother frowned. “Until the dancing is over.”

My father said, “I hear you visited Tiye.”

“I told her what happened to Kiya,” I replied.

He nodded. “Of course.”

“And she wasn’t surprised.”

He stared at me strangely, and I wondered for a moment if there had been any poisoning at all, or if it had just been a happenstance of fate. Nefertiti looked down at us and her sharp brows lowered. She crooked her finger at me.

My father motioned with his chin. “She wants you.”

I got up, and Nefertiti patted an empty chair on the dais where guests were allowed to sit and converse. “I hope you weren’t talking to Father about Kiya,” she warned.

“Of course not.”

“It’s a dead subject.”

“Like her child.”

Nefertiti’s eyes widened. “Don’t you let Akhenaten hear you,” she warned. Akhenaten turned to see what we were saying. She smiled for him and I stared back expressionlessly. She turned back to me. “Look at this feast I had to arrange just to take his mind off her.”

“How kind of you,” I replied.

Her temper flared. “Why are you so angry with me?”

“Because you’re endangering your immortal
ka
and going against the laws of Ma’at,” I retorted. “And for what?”

“For the crown of Egypt,” she replied.

“Do you think there won’t be a single vizier who hasn’t wondered whether Kiya was poisoned?”

“Then they’d be wrong,” she said firmly. “I didn’t poison her.”

“So someone else did on your behalf.”

There was a lull in the music and our conversation stopped. Nefertiti smiled brightly, so that Akhenaten would think we were talking of inane, sisterly things. When the music started up again, she leaned over and said briskly, “I need you to discover what Kiya’s ladies are saying.”

“No,” I replied, and my answer was resolute. “I am returning to Thebes. I told you I’d leave. I told you that even before Ankhesenpaaten was born.” The musicians still played at the other end of the hall, but those nearest the thrones could overhear what we were saying. I walked to the bottom of the dais and she sat forward on her throne.