The Pharaoh's Daughter (3 page)

Tut's throat bobbed up and down, perhaps swallowing many words before the right ones came to mind. A bead of sweat appeared on his upper lip while everyone waited for him to speak.

“How old is she?” Ankhe blurted out the question Anippe wanted to ask but didn't. Tut's eyebrows rose, clearly awaiting an answer.

Abbi Horem's face turned red again, and he slammed his hand on Ankhe's table. “You will be silent unless asked to speak.”

Ankhe raised her chin in defiance but didn't say another word.

Vizier Ay guided the pretty woman toward the table where Tut and Anippe sat. “Divine prince, meet your wife, Ankhe-Senpaaten. She is your half sister—daughter of Akhenaten and Nefertiti. You may call her
Senpa.
”

Anippe stared at Nefertiti's daughter. All their lives, they'd been warned of Nefertiti's evil. Now Tut must marry one of her daughters? How could they ask it of him? Senpa was beautiful, but she was ancient—at least twenty inundations, maybe twenty-five. How could a ten-year-old be a husband to a twenty-year-old queen?

Anippe shivered and earned a stern glance from Abbi Horem.

Vizier Ay cleared his throat and nudged Senpa aside. “Divine son and ruler of my heart, we have many details to discuss regarding the burial ceremony and your coronation. Perhaps you, in your great wisdom, could dismiss your sisters to Amenia's chamber to plan the wedding festival?”

“Yes, you may go.” Tut's voice sounded small.

Anippe wanted to stay, but Abbi Horem was already instructing a contingent of guards to escort them to Amenia's chamber.

“Wait!” Anippe's outburst quieted the room. “If it pleases my dear abbi, I would ask one question.” She stood and bowed to her abbi, using her best courtly manners to gain his pleasure before asking what burned in her belly.

“You may ask it, my daughter.”

Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, she tried to speak as a king's sister—not as sister to a crown prince. “Will Ankhe and I remain here at Memphis Palace with Tut and Senpa after their marriage?”

Vizier Ay laughed, startling Anippe from her composure.

Abbi Horem turned her chin gently, regaining her attention. “No, little habiba. Tut will remain here at the Memphis Palace with me and Vizier Ay. However, Senpa, Amenia, you, and Ankhe will relocate to the Gurob Harem Palace with the other noblemen's wives and children. The king's officials visit Gurob several times a year. You'll enjoy helping in the linen shop and have many little girls to play with.”

Anippe worked hard to keep her smile in place, but her heart felt ripped in two parts. First Ummi Kiya and now Tut? Would the gods take away everyone she loved?

She bowed slightly to her abbi and then reached for the scroll on which she'd drawn Tut's name—a memento of their last class together.

The tutor blocked her path, hand outstretched. “I'm sorry, Princess. I can't let you keep that scroll.”

“But why? I—”

Ankhe jumped to her side, grabbed the scroll, and hid it behind her back. Abbi Horem snatched it away, gave it to the tutor, and raised his hand to strike Ankhe. Anippe stepped between them, halting the general's hand.

Grabbing Anippe's shoulders, he shook his head. “You protect her too much, habiba. She must learn to behave as a princess.” He hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. When he stood, towering above Anippe and Ankhe, he addressed them both. “You can no longer write your brother's name in hieroglyph. He is now divine, and his name is sacred. Only royal scribes may write the six-part name of a king within an oval cartouche. Now, my guards will escort you to Amenia's chamber with Senpa.”

Anippe obeyed without argument. She looked over her shoulder as they left, wondering when Tut would become a god. This morning they'd laughed and teased and even raced from their chambers to the schoolroom. She'd almost beaten him. Surely a god could run faster than a girl.

Tut sat utterly still, expressionless, listening to his advisors. Perhaps that was what a god looked like—empty.

Anippe made sure Ankhe was behind her and then followed the beautiful daughter of Nefertiti down the open-air corridor to the women's chambers. Losing herself in the sound of chirping birds and sandals on tile, she breathed in the smell of lotus blossoms as they passed a garden pond.

Like the waters of the Nile, I will flow. I am Anippe, daughter of … Horemheb and Amenia.

FIVE YEARS LATER

Anippe lingered in half-lucid sleep, dawn's light as vexing as a knot in her loom. Gurob's Harem Palace was nestled in Egypt's marshy Fayum, gloriously still before daylight. Only the sound of a lark's distant trill and mosquitoes' constant humming nibbled the edges of Anippe's consciousness.

“Daughter, get up. Hurry, you must get dressed.” Ummi Amenia shook her shoulder. “Your brother summoned you to the Throne Hall—immediately.”

“What's so urgent?” Anippe bolted to her feet, causing her head to swim. She closed her eyes and reached for the bed, but Ummi yanked her back to her feet.

“No, don't sit down. You must get dressed.” Shuffling her toward the clothing baskets and pegs, her ummi continued honking like a mother goose. “Take this robe to the maid. She's waiting in the courtyard to apply your paints.” Ummi Amenia draped a freshly pleated gown over Anippe's arm, then turned her shoulders and gave her a little shove. “I'll bring the new linen sheath. You must look perfect this morning.”

“Why must I look perfect for Tut?” Growling under her breath, Anippe looked longingly at her younger sister, who still lay quietly on her back, wig hanging neatly, head suspended by the carved turquoise neck rest. “Why wasn't Ankhe summoned to see the king? Why does she get to sleep until midday?”

Ummi Amenia nudged Anippe toward the adjoining courtyard. “You
sound like a six-year-old, habiba. You're a grown woman now. Fourteen-year-olds don't whine.”

Anippe stopped midstride and turned, arms folded. “Why am I a grown woman when you want me to do something, but I'm acting like a little girl when I want something?”

Chuckling, Amenia cupped Anippe's cheek. “My habiba, Pharaoh Tut has a special edict that will prove you are grown. Now, please, let our maid dress you.” Her tenderness quieted Anippe's complaints, and she pecked her ummi's cheek with a kiss, surrendering to the inevitable.

They continued beyond four papyrus-shaped pillars into their private courtyard, where their Nubian maid waited beside an embroidered couch. The morning sounds of birds and frogs and breeze-swept palms distracted Anippe while the maid began her practiced ministrations.

Anippe lifted her arms to give up her sleeping coverlet and receive the sheer linen robe over her head. The sheath came next, draped under her right arm and over her left shoulder, with a gold and turquoise clasp at the base of her throat. Anippe lifted her long spiraled wig so Ummi Amenia could affix the
menat
to counterbalance her heavy gold and gemstone collar. Dressing complete, the three women moved in concert to prepare for the finishing touches. While Anippe reclined on her couch, Ummi Amenia reached for the basket of bracelets, and the maid gathered her pots of ointments and paints.

This Nubian had served Amenia, Anippe, and Ankhe since they'd arrived at Gurob five years ago. She spoke little and smiled much. Her eyes sparkled from within, though Anippe couldn't imagine how a slave could be happy.

With the first stroke of malachite beneath Anippe's bottom lashes, Ummi Amenia cleared her throat. “Your Abbi Horemheb has returned from the Hittite battle.”

Anippe bolted upright, nearly toppling the pot of malachite paste from the maid's hand. “Why? Was he injured? Are the Hittites invading?” For months they'd heard only of Egypt's losses, and the general never left a battle unless summoned.

Calmly, Amenia pressed Anippe's shoulders back against the couch and
with a single nod instructed the Nubian to resume her duties. “Your abbi Horem is unharmed. He arrived late last night, and he's waiting to see you in the throne room with King Tut.”

Momentary delight gave way to dread. Anippe would soon see the two men she loved most, but what could be urgent enough to bring her abbi home? “Why would Abbi Horem come to the Harem Palace? He hates women's gossip, and he's never enjoyed the king's annual hunt in the marshes.”

Ummi Amenia's slight hesitation spoke louder than her words. “He's come to see you, habiba.”

Anippe's eyes remained closed, submitting to the maid's practiced hand, but her insides began to tremble. “Have I done something to displease him, Ummi? Are
you
angry with me?” Fear coiled around her heart. They'd adopted her years ago. Had they tired of her?

“No one is angry with you, habiba. You are our treasure.” Amenia rested a quieting hand on her arm. “And because we treasure you, we must protect you and provide a husband for you.”

Anippe swallowed hard. Ummi had spoken of providing a husband before, but each time Anippe had laughed and teased Ummi Amenia toward another subject. This morning felt different.

She heard a shuffle beside her and opened her eyes. Ummi Amenia crouched on the maid's stool, her face hovering near.

“Do you trust Abbi Horem and me to do what's best for you, daughter?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Anippe could only nod. Seeming appeased, Ummi relinquished the low stool to the maid once more. Anippe gratefully hid behind closed eyes and remembered the last time this kind woman asked her,
“Do you trust us to do what's best for you?”

Amenia had crouched in front of the royal linen closet on the day Ummi Kiya died, coaxing Mery into her arms.
Meryetaten-tasherit.
The name had taunted Anubis and filled her with fear every day of her life—until General Horemheb and Amenia gave her a new name.

Would a husband change her name too? Would he love her like Abbi Horem and Ummi Amenia had?

Anippe's heart nearly stopped.
A husband will expect children!
Panic started in her belly and rose into her chest, tingling and burning. Ummi Kiya's lifeless eyes and the baby's gray body raged in her memory.

A soft linen cloth dabbed Anippe's cheek. “Habiba, you mustn't cry. You've always known we would make a good match for you someday. This marriage is for your protection—for the protection of Egypt's Two Lands.” Amenia's gentle voice unleashed more tears. “Shh, now. No more tears. Your maid will paint your lips and cheeks while I dry your eyes.”

Anippe drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then pouted her lips for the maid's expert application of red ochre. Ummi dried her eyes, taking care to remove whatever remained of the smeared malachite.

While the maid painted Anippe's lips, she forced herself to think of anything but childbirth.
Did Ummi say this marriage would protect Egypt?
Surely Abbi wouldn't match her with a foreign prince in some treaty and send her far away. Tears threatened again, but she swallowed back the emotion. Ummi was right. She'd always known the day would come when she would be forced to marry.

With freshly painted lips, Anippe formed her question. “Please, Ummi. Tell me why Abbi Horem returned from battle to order this marriage and how my wedding feast will protect Egypt's Two Lands.”

Anippe sensed a commotion beside her and opened her eyes. Amenia had taken the paints from the maid and commandeered her stool. “Please awaken Ankhe and dress her in the chamber. I'd like to speak with Anippe alone.”

The Nubian bowed and obeyed, hurrying out of the courtyard. Anippe sat up on her couch, and Amenia lowered her voice to a whisper. “The Hittites are not our only enemies, habiba. One of your Abbi's messengers intercepted suspicious correspondence between Vizier Ay and Commander Nakhtmin in Nubia.”

Anippe had heard of Nakhtmin. “The same commander that's marrying Vizier Ay's daughter? The women of Gurob have talked about nothing but the wedding festival since the inundation. Perhaps the correspondence was about their upcoming marriage.”

Amenia stroked her cheek with a good-natured grin. “Women speak of
wedding festivals, habiba. Viziers and commanders do not. Vizier Ay seeks control of Commander Nakhtmin's Nubian slave army. If Ay coordinates a rebellion, Egypt is divided, and Tut's reign is over.”

“He wouldn't dare!”

“Powerful men crave more power, and Vizier Ay is more dangerous than the Hittites right now, so your abbi Horem returned to the Gurob Palace to protect your brother from an enemy he doesn't yet recognize.”

Amenia pressed Anippe's shoulders back against the couch. Anippe closed her eyes for the final touches of kohl around her eyes. She lay quietly for several heartbeats, considering the broader scope of life and death and the part she'd play in Egypt's history.

“Who is my husband, and how will our marriage bring peace?”

“I would rather your abbi Horem introduce him to you. But know this, daughter. Your abbi loves you and has chosen the man best suited for your future—and for the future of Egypt.”

Anippe heard the clattering of paint pots and applicators as Ummi Amenia replaced the items on a silver tray. “Almost done. Sit up, habiba. Let me put on this gold-braided headband.” She fitted a hammered-gold weave over Anippe's wig and held up a polished-bronze mirror. “What do you think?”

Anippe stared at her reflection. Long braids punctuated by gold beads were accented by the golden headband resting above her brow. Deep green malachite danced beneath her sandy brown eyes, and perfect kohl bands extended from her upper lids to her temples. “You painted my eyes like yours, Ummi. I look … grown up.”