The Egyptian Royals Collection (65 page)

“But was she truly a heretic, as they say?”

“My lady—”

I saw that Merit was going to put off my question, and I shook my head firmly. “I was named for Nefertiti. My mother couldn’t have believed that her sister was a heretic.”

No one spoke the name of Nefertiti in the palace, and Merit pressed her lips together to keep from reprimanding me. She unfolded her hands and her gaze grew distant. “It was not so much the Pharaoh-Queen herself, as her husband.”

“Akhenaten?”

Merit shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. He banished the gods. He destroyed the temples of Amun and replaced the statues of Ra with ones of himself.”

“And my aunt?”

“She filled the streets with her image.”

“In place of the gods?”

“Yes.”

“But then where have they gone? I have never even seen a likeness of them.”

“Of course not!” Merit stood. “Everything that belonged to your aunt was destroyed.”

“Even my mother’s name,” I said and looked back at the shrine. Incense drifted across the face of the feline goddess. When she died, Horemheb had taken everything. “It’s as though I’ve been born with no
akhu,
” I said. “No ancestors at all. Did you know that in the edduba,” I confided, “students don’t learn about Nefertiti’s reign, or the reign of Pharaoh Ay, or Tutankhamun?”

Merit nodded. “Yes. Horemheb erased their names from the scrolls.”

“He took their lives. He ruled for four years, but they teach us that he ruled for dozens and dozens.
I
know better.
Ramesses
knows better. But what will my children be taught? For them, my family will never have existed.”

Each year, on the Feast of Wag, Egyptians visit the mortuary temples of their ancestors. But there was nowhere for me to honor my own mother’s
ka
or the
ka
of my father with incense or a bowl of oil. Even their tombs had been hidden in the hills of Thebes, safe from the Aten priests and Horemheb’s vengeance. “Who will remember them, Merit?
Who?
”

Merit placed her palm on my shoulder. “You.”

“And when I’m gone?”

“Make sure you are never gone from the people’s memory. And those who know of your fame will search out your past and find Pharaoh Ay and Queen Mutnodjmet.”

“Otherwise they will be erased.”

“And Horemheb will have succeeded.”

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

T
HE
W
AY
A CAT
L
ISTENS

                  
THE HIGH PRIESTS
divined that Ramesses should marry on the twelfth of Thoth. They had chosen it as the most auspicious day in the season of Akhet, and when I walked from the palace to the Temple of Amun, the lake was already crowded with vessels bringing food and gifts for the celebration.

Inside the temple I kept to myself, and not even Tutor Oba could find fault with me when the priests were finished. “What’s the matter, Princess? No one to entertain now that Pharaoh Ramesses and Asha are gone?”

I looked up into Tutor Oba’s wrinkled face. His skin was like papyrus; every part of it was lined. Even around his nose there were creases. I suppose he was only fifty, but he seemed to me to be as old as the cracking paint in my chamber.

“Yes, everybody has left me,” I said.

Tutor Oba laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound.

“Everybody has left you!” he repeated.
“Everybody.”
He looked around him at the two hundred students who were following him to the edduba. “Tutor Paser tells me you are a very good student, and now I wonder if he means in acting or in languages. Perhaps in a few years, we’ll be seeing you in one of Pharaoh’s performances!”

I walked the rest of the way to the edduba in silence. Behind me, I could still hear Tutor Oba’s grating laugh, and inside the class I was too angry to care when Paser announced, “Today, we will begin a new language.”

I don’t remember what I learned that day, or how Paser began to teach us the language of Shasu. Instead of paying attention, I stared at the girl on the reed mat to my left. She was no more than eight or nine, but she was sitting at the front of the class where Asha should have been. When the time came for our afternoon meal, she ran away with another girl her age, and it occurred to me that I no longer had anyone to eat with.

“Who’s in for dice?” Baki announced, between mouthfuls.

“I’ll play,” I said.

Baki looked behind him to a group of boys, and their faces were all set against me. “I … don’t think we allow girls to play.”

“You allow girls every other day,” I said.

“But … but not today.”

The other boys nodded, and shame brightened my cheeks. I stepped into the courtyard to find a seat by myself, then recognized Asha on the stone bench where we always ate.

“Asha! What are you doing here?” I exclaimed.

He leaned his yew bow against the bench. “Soldiers get mealtimes, too,” he said. He searched my face. “What’s the matter?”

I shrugged. “The boys won’t allow me to play dice with them.”

“Which boys?” he demanded.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It
does
matter.” His voice grew menacing. “Which ones?”

“Baki,” I said, and when Asha rose threateningly from the bench, I pulled him back. “It’s not just him, it’s everyone, Asha. Iset was right. They were friendly to me because of you and Ramesses, and now that you’re both gone, I’m just a leftover princess from a dynasty of heretics.” I raised my chin and refused to be upset. “So what is it like to be a charioteer?”

Asha sat back and studied my face, but I didn’t need his sympathy. “Wonderful,” he admitted, and opened his sack. “No cuneiform, no hieroglyphics, no translating Muwatallis’s endless threats.” He looked to the sky and his smile was genuine. “I’ve always known I was meant to be in Pharaoh’s army. I was never really good at all that.” He indicated the edduba with his thumb.

“But your father wants you to be Master of the Charioteers. You have to be educated!”

“And thankfully that’s over.” He took out a honey cake and gave half to me. “So did you see the number of merchants that have arrived? The palace is filled with them. We couldn’t take the horses to the lake because it’s crowded with foreign vessels.”

“Then let’s go to the quay and see what’s happening!”

Asha glanced around him, but the other students were rolling knucklebones and playing Senet. “Nefer, we don’t have time for that.”

“Why not? Paser is always late, and the soldiers don’t return until the trumpets call them back. That’s long after Paser begins. When will we ever see so many ships? And think of the animals they might be bringing. Horses,” I said temptingly. “Maybe from Hatti.”

I had said the right words. He stood with me, and when we reached the lake, we saw a dozen ships lying at anchor. Above us on the dock, pennants of every color snapped in the breeze, their rich cloth catching the light like brightly painted jewels. Heavy chests were being unloaded, and just as I had guessed, horses had arrived, gifts from the kingdom of Hatti.

“You were right!” Asha exclaimed. “How did you know?”

“Because every kingdom will send gifts. What else do the Hittites have that we’d want?”

The air filled with the shouts of merchants and the stamps of sea-weary horses skittering down the gang-planks. We picked our way toward them through the bales and bustle. Asha reached out to stroke an ink-black mare, but the man in charge chided him angrily in Hittite.

“You are speaking with Pharaoh’s closest friend,” I said sharply. “He has come to inspect the gifts.”

“You speak Hittite?” the merchant demanded.

I nodded. “Yes,” I replied in his language. “And this is Asha, future Master of Pharaoh’s Charioteers.”

The Hittite merchant narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if he believed me. Finally, he gave a judicious nod. “Good. You may instruct him to lead these horses to Pharaoh’s stables.”

I smiled widely at Asha.

“What? What is he saying?”

“He wants you to take the horses to Pharaoh Seti’s stables.”

“Me?” Asha exclaimed. “No! Tell him—”

I smiled at the merchant. “He will be more than happy to deliver Hatti’s gifts.”

Asha stared at me. “Did you tell him
no?
”

“Of course not! What’s the matter with delivering a few horses?”

“Because how will I explain what I’m doing?” Asha cried.

I looked at him. “You were passing by on the way to the palace. You were asked to do this task because you are knowledgeable about horses.” I turned back to the merchant. “Before we take these horses from Hatti, we would like to inspect the other gifts.”

“What? What did you tell him now?”

“Trust me, Asha! There is such a thing as being
too
cautious.”

The merchant frowned, Asha held his breath, and I gave the old man my most impatient look. He sighed heavily, but eventually he led us across the quay, past exquisitely carved chests made from ivory and holding a fortune in cinnamon and myrrh. The rich scents mingled with the muddy tang of the river. Asha pointed ahead to a long leather box. “Ask him what’s in there!”

The old man caught Asha’s meaning, and he bent down to open the leather case. His long hair spilled over his shoulder; he tossed his three white braids behind him and pulled out a gleaming metal sword.

I glanced at Asha. “Iron,” I whispered.

Asha reached out and turned the hilt, so that the long blade caught the summer’s light just as it had on the balcony with Ramesses.

“How many are there?” Asha gestured.

The merchant seemed to understand, because he answered, “Two. One for each Pharaoh.”

I translated his answer, and as Asha returned the weapon, a pair of ebony oars caught my eye. “And what are those for?” I pointed to the paddles.

For the first time, the old man smiled. “Pharaoh Ramesses himself—for his marriage ceremony.”

The tapered paddles had been carved into the heads of sleeping ducks, and he caressed the ebony heads as if the feathers were real. “His Highness will use them to row across the lake while the rest of the court follows behind him in vessels of their own.”

I imagined Ramesses using the oars to paddle closer to Iset as she sailed in front of him, her dark hair covered by a beaded net whose lapis stones would catch at the light. Asha and I would have to sail behind them, and there would be no question of my calling out to Ramesses or tugging his hair. Perhaps if I had acted less like a child at Ramesses’s coronation, I might have been the one in the boat before him. Then, it would be me he would turn to at night, sharing the day’s stories with his irresistible laugh.

I followed Asha to the stables in silence, and that evening, when Merit instructed me to change from my short sheath into a proper kilt for the night, I didn’t complain. I let her place a silver pectoral around my neck and sat still while she rubbed myrtle cream into my cheeks.

“How come you’re so eager to do as I say?” she asked suspiciously.

I flushed. “Don’t I always?”

The pelican’s pouch lengthened as Merit pushed in her chin. “A dog does what its master says.
You
listen the way a cat listens.”

We both looked at Tefer reclining on the bed, and the untamable
miw
placed his ears against his head as if he knew he was being chastised.

“Now that Pharaoh Ramesses has grown up, have you decided to grow up as well?” Merit challenged.

“Perhaps.”

WHEN IT
was time to eat in the Great Hall, I took my place beneath the dais and could see that Ramesses was watching Iset. In ten days she would become his wife, and I wondered if he would forget about me entirely.

Pharaoh Seti stood from his throne, and as he raised his arms the hall fell silent. “Shall we have some music?” he asked loudly, and next to him Queen Tuya nodded. As always, her brow appeared damp with sweat, and I wondered how such a large woman could bear living in the terrible heat of Thebes. She didn’t bother to stand, and fan bearers with their long ostrich feathers stirred the perfumed air around her so that even from the table beneath the dais it was possible to smell her lavender and lotus blossom.

“Why don’t we hear from the future Queen of Egypt?” she suggested, and the entire court looked to Iset, who rose gracefully from her chair.

“As Your Highnesses wish.”

Iset made a pretty bow and slowly crossed the chamber. As she approached the harp that had been placed beneath the dais, Ramesses smiled. He watched her arrange herself before the instrument, pressing the carved wooden shoulder between her breasts, and as the lilting notes echoed across the hall, a vizier behind me murmured, “Beautiful.
Exceptionally
beautiful.”