The Egyptian Royals Collection (17 page)

I glanced at her, wondering what would make her say such a thing now. “Ranofer was a good teacher,” I replied.

“Ranofer has married,” my mother said.

I looked up sharply.
“Who?”

“A local girl. I’m sure she’s not as beautiful as Nefertiti, but she will be loyal and love him.”

“Do you think Nefertiti loved him?” I asked.

We watched as the sky deepened to violet. My mother sighed. “There are many different kinds of love, Mutnodjmet. The kind you have for your parents, the kind you have for children, the kind that’s really lust.”

“You think Nefertiti was in lust?”

My mother laughed. “No, she has too much self-control for lust. It’s men who are in lust with her. But I think she loved Ranofer in her own way. He was there, he was attractive, and he followed her.”

“Like Amunhotep.”

She gave a little smile. “Yes. But Ranofer always knew Nefertiti was meant for Pharaoh. She is the daughter of a princess.”

“And now he’s married.”

“Yes. I guess his heart has mended.”

We both smiled. I was happy for Ranofer. He had married a local girl. A good wife, probably, who would water his herbs and bring him dinner when he came home from visiting his patients in the village. I wondered if my future husband would know about herbs or care about tending a garden. We walked back to the palace under the stars. My mother came into my chamber, startling Ipu, who executed a hasty bow as she lit the lamps. “Lovely.” My mother ran her fingers over the paintings of Isis and Osiris. An image of my patron goddess was on the wall. “Mut,” she said, staring at the feline head in the candlelight. She looked at my green eyes, then back at the goddess. “I wonder if our names determine our destiny, or if destiny leads us to choose certain names.”

I had wondered that myself. Had my mother known I would have feline eyes before she’d chosen Mutnodjmet as my name? And could my father’s first wife have known just how beautiful Nefertiti would become when she called her the Beautiful One?

My mother dropped her hand to her side. “Tomorrow will be a busy day,” she said meaningfully. “The future of Memphis will be decided.”

By a man that Pharaoh intends to betray
. I wondered if she had heard the news from my father. I didn’t say anything, and my mother smiled softly.

“You should sleep.”

Like a child, I obeyed and climbed into bed. Then she kissed my forehead, the way she used to in Akhmim.

In the morning, I was woken by the sun, which filtered into my room through the lowered reed mats. The world around me was strangely silent. I got up and checked the door, but Ipu was gone. I looked into the courtyard, and none of the servants were around. I dressed quickly, thinking that something must have gone wrong. Had Horemheb betrayed us? Had the barges fled? I rushed down the hall. Had they left without me? How could I have slept so late? I quickened my pace, and when I saw a servant in the hall I demanded, “Where is everyone?”

The servant walked away from me, buried beneath an armful of scrolls. “The Great Hall, my lady.”

“Why the Great Hall?”

“Because it wouldn’t all fit in the Audience Chamber!”

At the Great Hall, two guards parted to let me through, and as I entered into the chamber I gasped. The windows had been thrown open to let in the morning light, but it wasn’t the bright tiles or gilded tables that I noticed. It was chest upon open chest of treasure: silver scepters and wrought gold that Egypt’s Pharaohs must not have seen for centuries. They were piled haphazardly around the room: ancient statues of Ptah and Osiris, gilded chairs, lacquered barks, and chests filled with bronze and gold. Nefertiti and Amunhotep stood on the dais while the army carried more treasure into the room. My family was standing around surveying the scene.

“This must be all the gold in Egypt!” I exclaimed, and General Horemheb, who was passing me by, threw a sharp look in my direction. My father separated himself from the crowd of officials and took my arm.

“It’s gone well.”

“Is that why you woke me up?” I asked, offended that no one had thought to include me on such a momentous occasion.

“Your mother gave strict instructions not to wake you unless something went wrong.” He patted my back in a fatherly gesture. “We only have your best interests at heart, little cat. Don’t be angry.” We both looked across the Great Hall and he added warningly, “If there’s to be a fight, it will happen before nightfall. They have not yet gone to the High Priest of Amun.”

“He doesn’t know they’re coming?”

“He has been forewarned.”

I lowered my voice. “So do you think there will be violence?”

“If the High Priest is foolish enough not to see the turning of the tide.”

I glanced at him in shock. “Then you agree with this?”

My father closed his eyes briefly. “You can’t change the desert. You can only take the fastest course through it. Wishing it’s an oasis won’t make it so, Mutnodjmet.”

Suddenly, the room grew hushed, and I noticed that Horemheb’s men were gone. Nefertiti descended the dais to stand beside my father and me. “The soldiers have left for Amun’s temple,” she said excitedly. We looked over the treasure, gleaming in the sun. There was so much of it that I wondered whether the army hadn’t simply taxed the temples but had stripped whatever they’d found in their treasuries.

“This can’t only be taxes,” I said aloud. “Look at it all. There’s too much of it.”

“Oh, there are dozens of temples in Memphis,” Nefertiti said gaily. My father looked hard at her and she added defensively, “The men’s orders were to take a fourth of the gold in their treasuries.”

“And they are following those orders?” he demanded.

“Of course,” Amunhotep replied. None of us had heard his approach. He stepped between my sister and me and placed his arm around her slender waist. “Panahesi is there to make certain it’s done.” He looked down into Nefertiti’s dark eyes. She leaned her head into his shoulder. “How is it that since your arrival in my life all of my projects have come to fruition?”

Nefertiti shrugged provocatively, as if she knew the answer but wouldn’t say.

The High Priest of Amun has still to part with his wealth
, I thought darkly.

We waited in the Great Hall. For hours there was no word from the Great Temple of Amun and the court began to grow anxious. Amunhotep paced the floor while Nefertiti played a game of Senet with my mother. When at last the door swung open and Horemheb burst in, the Great Hall held its breath. The general strode toward the dais dressed in leather and armed, but empty-handed.

“Where is it?” Amunhotep cried. “Where is Amun’s gold?”

“The High Priest will not agree to taxation of the temple,” he said simply.

The anger built in Amunhotep’s voice. “Then why are you here? You know the bargain. If he will not bow to Pharaoh, then he will pay the price!” There was an outburst of chatter as Amunhotep’s viziers talked heatedly among themselves. “Silence!” he shouted. An immediate hush fell over the Great Hall.

“You must make an example of the High Priest,” Panahesi advised.

My father stood. “His death could lead to rebellion. The people see him as the mouth of the gods. It is more prudent to arrest him.”

Amunhotep looked to Nefertiti, and it became clear to the court how much influence she had gained. She descended the dais.

“You must do what you think right. Perhaps it is wiser to arrest him,” she acknowledged, “but if he will not go in peace …” She held up her palm. She had placated everyone and condemned the High Priest in one breath.

Amunhotep faced Horemheb. “Arrest him! If he will not go in peace, then you will take his life.”

Horemheb did not move. “My men are not murderers,
Your Highness
.”

“He is a traitor to the crown!” Amunhotep seethed. “A blight on the mighty glory of Aten!”

“Then I will arrest him and bring him here. In peace.”

I could see Amunhotep’s desire to lash out, but he needed Horemheb; the job was not finished. Nefertiti stepped forward, placing her lips against Horemheb’s ear, and I could read what she was saying. “Amun’s reign is over,” she whispered threateningly. “Aten watches over Egypt now.” They looked at one another, and a dozen messages were concealed in that glance. Horemheb made a bow, then turned to leave.

Amunhotep looked to Panahesi. “Follow him,” he commanded.

There was a meeting in my chamber that night.

“You let him kill the High Priest of Amun!” my father raged. He paced the bedroom and his cloak swirled violently around his heels.

Nefertiti sat on the edge of my bed. She was visibly shaken. “He refused taxation,” she said. “Had he gone in peace—”

“Panahesi didn’t give him the chance to
go in peace!
This is against Ma’at,” my father warned, and Nefertiti lost some of her color.

“The goddess understands—”

“Does she?” he demanded. “Are you willing to risk your
ka
for it?”

We both looked at Nefertiti.

“Nothing can be done now,” she replied. “He’s dead, and … and Amunhotep expects me back in his chamber.” Her voice disappeared into itself. “There will be a feast tonight.” She stole a glance at my father. “He expects you,” she said hastily. “And Panahesi will be there.”

Our father didn’t reply. Horemheb hadn’t betrayed the king, but something far worse, far more lasting had occurred. This deed of Amunhotep’s wouldn’t echo just on earth, it would echo among the gods. My father stormed from the chamber, and Nefertiti looked at me sharply. Then she disappeared after my father, and I was alone in my room.

When Merit arrived with instructions to wear my finest jewels to the feast, I shook my head angrily. “But the queen has requested it,” she replied.

“Then tell the queen she will simply have to be the only daughter of Ay who looks stunning tonight. If I’m not mistaken, the court should be in mourning, not celebrating.”

Merit looked puzzled.

“The High Priest has been killed!”

She drew her head back in understanding. “Oh. Yes. May Osiris embrace his soul,” she mumbled. “I will return with your answer to the queen, my lady. But you will be going?” she confirmed.

“Of course,” I snapped. “But only because I have no other choice.”

She looked at me curiously, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care who knew I didn’t think we should be celebrating the death of Ma’at. But in the end, I knew even my father would attend Pharaoh’s feast. No one was above Pharaoh.