The Egyptian Royals Collection (92 page)

I smiled grimly. “They’ve put saffron and beer on my stomach.”

The paste glistened in the low light of the room. All I was wearing was a simple kilt, without paint or even a necklace, but Ramesses didn’t look away. Instead, he held my hand tighter.

“If the pain is too much, just look at me.” He made me promise. “Squeeze my arm.”

A sharp pain wracked my body and I arched my back. The midwives rushed to the bed and one of them cried, “It’s coming!” They eased me onto the birthing chair, and my terror grew so strong I could barely contain it. The child would drop through the hole into Merit’s waiting arms. If it was a son, the priestesses would do for me what they had done for Iset. They would ring their bells three times throughout Thebes to tell the people that I had given Ramesses an heir. If it was a girl, they would only ring the bells twice.

A bowl of steaming water was placed under the chair to ease the delivery, and while Merit crouched, Woserit and Ramesses stood at my side. I held Ramesses’s hand, and it was in this moment that I loved his rashness most. It didn’t matter that a Pharaoh had never before witnessed a royal birth. If something should happen to me, he wanted his face to be the last one I saw, and he knew that this is what I would want as well. We looked into each other’s eyes as the midwives chanted, “Push, my lady! Push!”

I strained against the chair and felt the hard wood press into my back. Then my body shuddered and one of the women cried, “It’s coming!” Merit opened her arms and I felt my body relieve itself of its burden. In a rush of blood the child appeared. Merit held it in the air to inspect its hands and feet, and I heard Ramesses cry, “A son! A prince of Egypt!”

But I was in too much pain to celebrate my triumph. I gripped the arms of the chair and felt a tremendous pressure between my legs. Then Woserit pointed beneath me and cried sharply. She took my son from Merit’s arms, and my nurse held out her hands as another head appeared, then a body. There was an intake of breath in the birthing chamber, then the sharp piercing cry of another living child.

“Twin sons!” Merit cried, and the entire chamber rejoiced. I am sure that the courtiers who pressed outside the doors could hear the cries of the midwives as they thanked Hathor and Bes for twin princes. “Sons!” they repeated. “
Two
sons!”

The message was passed through the windows of the pavilion, and I heard a woman shout, “The princess Nefertari is beloved by the gods.”

I looked at my sons in the arms of their nurses. Even with blood still covering their heads they were incredibly beautiful. My knees felt weak, and there was a pulsing ache between my thighs, but I was alive. I had survived the birth of not one, but two sons, and now I was a mother. I wanted to hold my princes in my arms, and stroke their heads, and learn the color of their eyes and the soft contours of their bodies. I wanted to press them to my chest and never let them go where harm might come to them. These children carried the blood of all of my
akhu
and Ramesses’s
akhu
with them.

I was helped through the back door to the baths. While Merit washed and perfumed me with jasmine, she hummed an elated hymn to Hathor. Then she guided me to a long stone bench where she packed my womb with linen. I shut my eyes tightly against the pain, and Merit said softly, “These next few days are vital, my lady. You will need to be kept completely dry and rested.” Many women survived childbirth only to succumb to disease a few days later. And my sons would have to be kept tightly wrapped, so that not even their little arms could move, in case they should accidentally reach out and beckon the shadow of Anubis.

I sat while Merit brushed my hair, and a servant brought me tea. Then I returned to the birthing pavilion. I could hear the priestesses in the courtyard ringing their bells six times each, and I imagined the people’s confusion. Thrice for a son, twice for a daughter. When they learned what six meant …

Ramesses sat on a leather stool at my side and held my hand again. “How do you feel?”

I smiled, and for the first time I looked with a mother’s eyes at the images of children painted across the wide walls of the pavilion. It was a large chamber, with long windows that faced the rising sun and soft linen curtains that blew gently with every breeze. It had been built to make a new mother feel at ease, for in every scene a woman sat smiling while her children were at play, at work, or asleep. I took Ramesses’s hand and squeezed it tenderly. “I am feeling well.”

His eyes filled with tears, and he moved from the stool to my bed. “I was frightened for you, Nefer. When I saw all the blood, I was scared of what I had done to you.”

“Ramesses,” I said softly, “you gave me a son.
Two
sons.” I looked at my children suckling at their milk nurses’ breasts. They had been bathed in lavender water and their small heads had been rubbed with oil. Without the oil, I was sure that their hair would be as red-gold as their father’s, and I felt the overwhelming need to hold them and look into their eyes.

“And just as Ahmoses predicted,” Ramesses whispered.

I looked up in astonishment. “What do you mean?”

“He came this morning to the Audience Chamber. After Paser told him that the Habiru would remain with the army, he wished you well in the birth of our two sons.”

I sat straighter in my bed. “He said
two sons?
”

“He said twins.”

“But how could he have known?”

“Perhaps he guessed. Or perhaps he thought …”

“Of Nefertiti?” In my joy, I hadn’t considered this, but now I could see how the people could view my sons as a link to the Heretic Queen, who had also borne twins. Was every blessing destined to be seen as a curse? I clutched my stomach, and the pain between my legs suddenly sharpened.

“What is it?” Ramesses worried. “Is there something you need?”

I winced, and Merit was at my side at once.

“I will bring my lady some ginger and tea. It will ease the pain in her womb, Your Highness.”

I sat back on my cushions, and Ramesses’s eyes were dark and full of worry.

“I’ll be fine,” I promised. “But I can’t bear to think—”

“Then don’t. You are the mother to the first princes of Egypt, Nefer.” He kissed my hand gently. “So what shall we name them?”

I looked at our children, wrapped in the very finest linen, and their little chests moved up and down with small, contented breaths. “I want to hold them first.”

Merit disturbed their feeding to bring them to me, and Woserit and Ramesses stood back as my sons were placed in my arms. Their bodies fit snugly against mine, and I nuzzled their soft cheeks and downy heads. It was true. Both of my children had thin wisps of auburn hair and eyes the color of turquoise. In fourteen days they would be taken to the Temple of Amun and introduced to the gods. But before then I would have to announce their names.

I studied their small features; both of them had delicate faces, with hands so small they could barely fit around a river reed. They were tiny gifts from Amun, a sign from the gods that was undeniable. “Our first will be Amunher,” I announced, and the midwives who were cleansing the chamber murmured happily, for
Amunher
meant “Amun is with him.” “And the second …” I looked at Amunher’s brother. His gaze was as curious and bright as Re. “And our second son shall be Prehir.”

“Re watches over him,” Ramesses repeated, and the women in the chamber sighed. “Woserit, tell the priestesses to make a special offering. Then let the people know that Nefertari is as healthy and strong as ever. Tonight, there will be a feast in the Great Hall.”

Merit returned my sons to the pair of young milk nurses who sat in the pavilion’s only private chamber. Although the pavilion was wide, the chamber door had been left open so that I could see my sons resting in the young women’s arms. For most of the afternoon I slept, and as the sun dropped lower in the sky, Woserit bowed politely and left. As she parted, I could hear the excited chatter in the hall as courtiers peered inside to catch a glimpse of the princes. Then Henuttawy entered the pavilion. She wore the
seshed
circlet on her brow, and the cobra’s golden hood gleamed from her dark hair as though it were ready to strike. Behind her was Iset, her eyes wide with fear. She hadn’t been inside the birthing pavilion since her own son had died, and I knew it was Henuttawy who’d insisted she come.

“We have all heard the wonderful news,” Henuttawy announced grandly. “Not one child, but twins, just like Nefertiti.” She looked at me, and her eyes were as cold and hard as granite. “Congratulations, Nefertari. Although it’s hard to imagine that a girl of your size could produce two children at once.” I felt the pain between my legs increase, and she glanced up from under her lashes at Ramesses. “Are you sure they are hers?” she asked teasingly.

“Of course,” Ramesses said sharply.

Henuttawy dismissed the remark with a laugh, as if she hadn’t meant anything by it. “So what has our little princess named them?” she asked.

“Amunher and Prehir,” I answered. I noticed that Ramesses was watching his aunt with a curious expression.

“Iset is thinking of Ramessu for her son. Ramessu the Great, just like his father.”

“And if it’s a girl?” I asked from my bed.

Iset put her hand over her large belly. “Why should it be a girl?” she whispered. “Ramesses has given his wives only sons.”

“That’s right,” Henuttawy said brightly, then hooked Ramesses’s arm in hers. And before I could protest, she led him away from me and into the midwives’ chamber. Merit quickly took a bundle of linens and began folding them near Henuttawy.

But Iset remained next to my bed, and she looked across the chamber at my newborn sons with longing. They were nestled into their milk nurses’ bosoms. I told her softly, “Henuttawy should not have brought you here. She doesn’t care about you.”

“Then who does?” she hissed. Her arm was wrapped around her belly, and I knew it was to protect it from the evil eye. “Do you think that Ramesses cares?” she demanded.

I was stunned. “Of course.”

She smiled bitterly. “The way he cares about you?”

“There is nothing you owe Henuttawy. No payment—”

“And what would
you
know about payment? A princess by birth who never had to pay for anything in her life.”

Ramesses emerged from the chamber ahead of Henuttawy, and his expression was taut, like leather stretched too tightly over a drum.

“Shall we prepare a feast for tonight?” Iset asked eagerly. She offered Ramesses her arm, but he turned his strained expression to me and asked, “Nefertari, what would you like?”

The smile froze on Iset’s face.

“I’d like to summon Penre to tell him what to paint on the Wall of Proclamation,” I said. “I want to let Amun know that two princes of Egypt have been born.”

“And the feast?” Iset repeated. “Shall we go and plan the feast?”

But Ramesses walked back toward the milk nurses’ chamber. “Why don’t you plan the feast with Henuttawy?” he said.

Iset blinked away tears but didn’t refuse his request. “Of course.” She took Henuttawy’s arm, and on their way out of the pavilion they met Woserit, who was returning.

“Such a happy day,” Woserit said cheerfully. “Don’t you think?”

Neither Henuttawy nor Iset replied. Woserit came to my bed, and I glanced at Ramesses, who was humming softly to his sons. He had taken off his
nemes
crown so that his auburn hair curled about his neck, and the little princes looked like miniature versions of their father. “Henuttawy was talking to him,” I whispered. “Alone. But Merit might have overheard.”

Woserit stood and went straight to Merit. I watched the pair of them speak in the alcove by the window. When Woserit came back to me, her look was grave. “Someone has spread the word in Thebes that your sons are not really yours, that they were born to a palace servant.”

“Someone?”
I hissed, nearly choking on my rage. “
Someone?
Who could it be but Henuttawy and Rahotep? Ammit will devour their souls,” I vowed. “They will never pass into the Afterlife! When the time comes for their hearts to be weighed against the truth, the scales will sink to the ground and Ammit will destroy them!” Woserit put her hand on mine. I wouldn’t be calmed, but I lowered my voice. “So what does this mean?” I demanded. “In fourteen days when my sons are brought before the altar of Amun, will I be declared Chief Wife?”

“The viziers will all tell Ramesses to wait and see what the people believe.”

“You mean wait and see if Iset has a son.” I could barely contain my rage. Across the wide birthing pavilion, Ramesses still hummed softly to the princes. I closed my eyes. “And Paser?”

“Of course Paser will speak for you! And Ramesses himself witnessed the birth. When the people see two red-haired princes with the same bright eyes and dimpled cheeks as Pharaoh, who do you think they will believe?” Woserit asked. “Though we must leave nothing to chance,” she quickly amended. “Henuttawy’s name is respected in Thebes. The people don’t know what she really is.”

“A
viper,
” I said.

Ramesses smiled at us from the corner of the pavilion where he was watching our sons, and Woserit added quickly, “Iset doesn’t know yet that it was Henuttawy who chased Ashai away. The moment has come,” she said firmly. “You have kept my sister’s secret long enough.”