The Egyptian Royals Collection (85 page)

“It’s so simple … with a fulcrum in the middle.” Ramesses passed the drawing to me, then looked at Penre in shock. “Do you think it can work?”

“Yes. With a large reed basket sealed with bitumen, it could do the work of hundreds of men. In fact … with a heavy enough stone, it might be able to lift five thousand
des
a day.”

Ramesses inhaled sharply. “Are you certain?”

“I’ve been making the calculations.” He shuffled the other sheaves of papyrus and gave one to Ramesses. I didn’t understand what was written, but both Ramesses and Asha were nodding in agreement.

“It’s unlike anything else in Egypt,” Asha promised. “In the tomb … dozens of images of the Heretic King.” His eyes found mine, but it was Ramesses who spoke.

“And did you find—”

Asha nodded briefly. “Yes.”

Ramesses stood from his chair and addressed Penre. “We will tell the court of your invention tomorrow. You will have your pick of the men for construction. If the first one built works, I will ask you to build them all along the banks of Thebes. You have done a great service to me,” Ramesses complimented. “I would not have trusted anyone else.”

Penre inclined his head to show that he was humbled. As Ramesses led him to the door, Asha held out a folded sheet of papyrus. “For you,” he said quietly.

I glanced at Ramesses, then carefully unfolded the page. Instead of a drawing, there was a small fragment of plaster painted with an image of a woman in a chariot. Her skin was dark, and even if the artist hadn’t taken the time to color her eyes, I would have known her name. I pressed my lips together to keep them from trembling.

“Ramesses wanted you to have it,” Asha said tenderly. “You are the only star in his sky.”

I blinked rapidly. “How did he know—”

“He didn’t. But he knew there were dozens of paintings of Amarna’s court. I would have brought back an image of your aunt, too, but …”

I nodded so he wouldn’t have to say the words himself. “They were destroyed.”

“But Horemheb left the images of your mother and father.”

I pressed the small painting into my palm. I felt somehow that by holding it I could reach the
ka
of my parents. Of the many gifts Ramesses had given me, this was by far the most precious.

I waited until Asha and Penre were both gone before placing the painting inside my mother’s
naos.
And when Ramesses asked what I was thinking, I didn’t tell him with words.

THE NEXT
day, Meryra’s design was announced in the Audience Chamber. At first, there was silence. Then the court erupted into exclamations of astonishment and joy. But the village elders, who had been invited from surrounding farms for the occasion, looked at one another in confusion.

“If this device succeeds,” Penre promised, “there will be harvest this year and every year thereafter!”

I leaned over to Ramesses. “Why aren’t the farmers rejoicing?” I whispered.

“They are wary. They’ll want to see it working first.”

“Well, they should be appreciative,” I said. “No Pharaoh in the history of Egypt will have changed the lives of so many people.”

But in Paser’s chamber later, even Woserit was cautious.

“Why doesn’t everyone see what Penre has achieved?” I cried.

“Because it has to work first,” Woserit said flatly. Although a large fire warmed the brazier, she was dressed in a heavy blue sheath. “There is still the matter of Iset,” she said quietly. “In two months she will be the mother to Ramesses’s eldest child.”

I felt my throat tighten at my own failure.

“Have you taken mandrakes?” Woserit pressed.

“Of course!” I flushed. “Merit gathers them for me.”

“And have you made the right offerings?”

I nodded, ashamed, because it meant that the gods were not listening. What if Tawaret, the goddess of childbirth, could not distinguish my plea among the thousands she received? Why should she? I was one of two wives, and the niece of a heretic who had abandoned the gods.

Woserit sighed. “At least the news is not all bad.”

“Your performance in the Audience Chamber is still inspiring a great deal of talk in Thebes,” Paser said. “I no longer have to direct foreign emissaries to see you. They ask for you now.”

“It is a great honor,” Woserit clarified. “No emissary ever seeks out Iset.”

“They will if she becomes Chief Wife,” I said, seeing into the future. “The people rarely smile at me. I could have passed out grain from now until Thoth, and it wouldn’t have mattered.”

Paser said firmly, “You cannot help who your family was.”

“Then why am I cursed to live in their shadow?” I asked.

“Because they were giants,” Woserit said, “and their shadows loom large. But you are creating another path for yourself. You are becoming a partner and adviser to Ramesses. And if you can give Egypt an heir, there will be less reason for the people to want Iset.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

W
EIGH
E
ACH
H
EART
A
LONE

                  
“MY LADY!”
Merit cried. “My lady, it’s happening!”

I glanced at Woserit, and when Paser opened his chamber door, Merit’s face was flushed. “Vizier. My lady,” she acknowledged briefly, then stepped inside. “The princess Iset is having her child!”

I stood quickly, but Woserit held out her hand. “Go—dress carefully. You want him to see that while Iset is sweating like a heifer, you are young and fresh.”

My heart beat faster. There was always the possibility that Iset wouldn’t survive the birth. But I knew I shouldn’t let Tawaret hear such thoughts. The goddess would punish unkindness and spite.

“None of us can predict when Anubis will come. Not even for Iset. But if she lives,” Woserit added firmly, “don’t expect Ramesses to see you at night the way he has these past months. He will follow tradition and spend ten days with her.”

“With a crying infant?”

“Of course not,” Merit said. “The baby will sleep with its nurse.”

I returned to my chamber to put on my best sheath and most elaborate wig. But as Merit began to paint my eyes, bells rang in the courtyards of Malkata.

“Three times if it’s a son,” Merit whispered.

We held our breath and waited. The bells pealed three times, then there was a pause while the priestesses waited, and rang their bells three times again. I jumped from my stool and ran.

“Your cloak!” Merit cried after me. “It’s cold!”

But I couldn’t feel the early morning mist. How would fatherhood change Ramesses? Would he come to me less and stay in Iset’s chamber more? I rushed through the polished halls toward the very birthing pavilion that had been built by my grandfather. But I stopped when I saw the crowd of courtiers huddled outside the heavy wooden doors. No one was to be allowed within.

Henuttawy saw me and smiled. “Princess Nefertari.” She took in the careful beading of my sheath with a quick, calculating glance. “My sister polished you into a little queen and thought to place you next to the king as Chief Wife. But that is not going to happen now.”

I met her gaze. “How would you know? No one
truly
believes that you’re the mouth of Isis.”

She tensed, then saw Woserit coming toward us and whispered triumphantly, “I know because Iset has just given Ramesses a son. A healthy prince of Egypt. Ramesses would be a fool not to make her queen now.”

“Ah, Henuttawy!” Woserit said. “You must be happy to hear that Iset has given Ramesses a boy. After all, this child might have been the son of Ashai if not for you.”

Henuttawy’s red lips formed a dark, thin line, and I realized why Woserit had not mentioned the name of Ashai since Iset had first spoken it in anger. She had been waiting, gathering information. Now she turned to me, and her eyes were very bright.

“You see, Nefertari, before she married Ramesses, Iset was in love with a young Habiru named Ashai. Unfortunately, he was only an artist, and when Iset’s grandmother discovered them together in her chamber, she threatened to disinherit her. But Iset didn’t care. She was in love, and when my sweet sister heard of this, she saw an opportunity: a beautiful harem daughter the same age as Ramesses who had entered into a secret romance. So easy to manipulate! Knowing my sister, she probably sent someone else to scare off Ashai.”

Henuttawy swore angrily, “Still shaming Hathor with your lies!”

“Maybe it was a servant, or perhaps someone more powerful, like the High Priest of Amun. Imagine,” Woserit continued in her most conspiratorial voice. “You’re a young Habiru artist and the High Priest arrives in his leopard robes and tells you that the woman you love is destined for the prince. Any man would have enough sense to leave her alone. So Ashai left Iset for a Habiru girl, and the path was clear to push Iset toward the dais. All my sister would ask for in exchange would be patronage for her temple. Of course, Iset still believes that Ashai simply lost interest in her. Imagine how she would feel if she knew what my sister had done!”

I didn’t know where Woserit had come by her information, but she had placed it like an offering at my feet.

“Nefertari would be a fool to open her mouth. If she ever speaks such nonsense to Ramesses,” Henuttawy threatened, “I would turn every priest in Thebes against her.”

Woserit shrugged. “They’re already against her. You don’t think we know that if you had the opportunity to ruin Nefertari, you would have already done so?”

The door to the birthing pavilion swung open. A delighted Ramesses emerged, and I felt a sharp stab of disappointment knowing that Iset had been the one to make him so happy. He saw me, and Woserit whispered, “Put a
smile
on your face.”

“Nefertari!” Ramesses shouted from across the courtyard, and I wondered selfishly if Iset could hear him calling my name from inside the pavilion. He was striding toward us, brushing past the courtiers’ bows. “Did you hear?” he asked joyously.

“Yes.” I smiled, though I’m sure it looked more like the grimace of Bes. “A son.”

“And Iset is healthy! She’s already asked for a harp to be moved into the pavilion. Have you ever heard of such a swift recovery?”

“No.” I swallowed my pain and added, “The gods must be watching over Malkata.”

This was what Ramesses wanted to hear. A breath of wind brushed the blue and gold flaps of his
nemes
crown behind his shoulders, and even in the gray of morning he appeared radiant. I had never seen him so proud, and again wished I had been the one to cause it.

“A feast must be prepared,” he said. “Tell the viziers that all of Thebes should celebrate. Every worker will have the day off.”

THE REED
mats were lowered in Paser’s chamber, while outside the priestesses continued to toll their bells.

“What have they named him?” Woserit asked grimly.

“Akori,” Paser replied. “But just because it’s a son doesn’t mean he’ll be made heir to the throne. He’s simply a prince.”

“The eldest prince,” I reminded, “and if Ramesses doesn’t choose—”

“And he’s never mentioned making you Chief Wife?”

I shook my head sadly at Paser’s question. “No.”

“Not even at night when he goes to your chamber?” Woserit pressed.

“Never.”

“So what is he waiting for?” she demanded.

“Maybe he’s waiting to see if Nefertari can give him an heir.”

We all looked down at my belly, and although my nipples had recently darkened and Merit thought that it might be a sign of a child, I looked the same as I had the month before. Then a heavy knock resounded through Paser’s chamber, and my heart pounded in my chest.

“My nurse,” I whispered. “She promised she’d come with any news.” I rushed from my stool, and outside, Merit was wringing her hands.

“Something’s happening in the birthing pavilion.”

Woserit rose quickly. “How do you know?”

“Three physicians entered and haven’t come out. Do you want me to go and deliver the princess fresh linens?”

“You mean spy?” I exclaimed.

“Of course, my lady! We don’t know what’s going on in there. What if she tempts him to make her Chief Wife?”

Then we’ll want to be the first to know,
I thought, but stopped myself. “But if it’s not in Ramesses’s heart to make me queen—”

“Forget such foolishness!” Woserit said. “We all
know
it’s in his heart. But Iset will try to tempt his reason. The entire court will be there telling him that he is eighteen and that a Chief Wife must be chosen. Go,” she said eagerly. “Go and find out what’s happening.” Woserit turned to me. “You should be in your own chamber. In case Ramesses comes looking for you. If there is something wrong with Iset, you want it to be your shoulder that he weeps on.”

I sat in my chamber and waited for news from the birthing pavilion. When the afternoon passed and there was still no word from anyone, I motioned to a passing servant in the hall. Tefer arched his body against my leg, curious to know what was happening as well.

“Do you know what’s happening in the birthing pavilion?”

The young girl lowered her reed basket to make the proper obeisance to me, but I waved it away. “Just tell me what you know.”

“The princess Iset has just had a son!”

“I know that! But why have the bells stopped ringing?”

She looked at me with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “Perhaps because the priestesses grew tired?”

I sighed in frustration, then made my way out toward the Great Hall, where the court was already celebrating. In a corner with the High Priest of Amun, Henuttawy was laughing. The clink of her bangles, the way she placed her delicate hand on his knee—it was like seeing a swan trying to mate with a hyena. But there was no sign of Woserit or Paser, and Merit was not there either. Platters of duck in roasted onion had been served, and barrels of the kitchen’s best wine had been opened. But the servants were watching one another nervously. I approached the cook, who saw me coming and desperately tried to make himself busy. But I caught his eye before he could take a handful of empty bowls from the table.

“What’s the matter?” I asked him. “Why isn’t anyone preparing for tonight?”

Nervous sweat appeared at the top of his heavy brow. “There are great preparations happening, my lady. There is meat and wine—”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I told him. “What have you heard?”

The cook cleared his throat and placed the bowls back on the table. He exchanged a glance with his two assistants, who quickly disappeared. Lowering his voice, for fear the gossip might reach Henuttawy’s ears, he continued. “The prince, my lady. There is talk among the servants that the Birth Feast might not take place tonight.”

I stepped forward. “
Why?
”

“Because the young prince is not as well as they thought. There is news he might—” He wouldn’t go on, for fear of calling Anubis to a place where new life had just entered.

“Thank you,” I told him and went back to my chamber to wait. I kneeled on my reed mat, then lit a cone of incense beneath Mut’s feet. I imagined the pain of having my own child taken from me and pleaded for the
ka
of the little boy who might never feel his father’s embrace. “He’s too young,” I beseeched Tawaret. “And Ramesses has just become a father. I know you have never heard Akori’s name, but he is my husband’s child and hasn’t lived long enough to offend anyone in this life.”