Queen of the Heavens (7 page)

“Of course they do,” Maya said, “but what do you want?”

“I’m not sure. I want to know passion and motherhood, but I want to continue my healing work. I fear I wouldn’t be able to do both, especially if my parents’ plan succeeds. They want me to marry Sety, the son of the Vizier Ramesses.”

Maya raised her eyebrows. “They have great ambitions for you.”

“I think they’re being foolish,” I said. “Ramesses may soon be the heir-apparent. He would never want a commoner like me to marry his son.”

“You’re a commoner by birth,” Maya replied, “but Isis is with you, and this is most uncommon. You’re also quite beautiful. Don’t underestimate your allure, or your chances to marry well.”

Maya saw what I refused to see. While my parents’ plan was ambitious, it was not implausible, and I realized my skeptical words were being dictated by my fear the plan would succeed.

“I worry that Sety would prevent me from living according to Isis’ will,” I said.

“Are you certain you know her will?” Maya asked.

“Isis has given me the power to heal. Certainly she would want me to continue doing so.”

“You also have the power to nurture, as Isis nurtured Horus. By nurturing, Tuya, you can manifest the divine.”

“I fear my power would be consumed by a man, and especially a man who would be Pharaoh.”

“Why?” Maya asked. “Sekhmet’s power is not consumed by her consort Ptah. Osiris did not consume Isis’ power. Indeed, she used her power to resurrect him. Sekhmet and Ptah, Isis and Osiris, Amun and Mut, Thoth and Maat. Among the Neters, male and female are in perfect balance.”

“I don’t feel balance, Maya. I feel confused.”

“Then seek balance, Tuya. Balance is the way of the Cosmos, and the source of all joy.”

My conversation with Maya left me more befuddled than before. I sought to contain my confusion by meditating and chanting, and working even more diligently than usual to master hieroglyphs. My healing work also gave me respite from my concerns over marriage. I even went to the market once to do healings, though Mother admonished me that I should not touch a leper. Her admonishment would have done no good, but lepers seldom ventured into town, so the occasion in which I might touch one did not arise.

One day, while walking by the Nile after finishing a lesson with Pentu, a servant came up to me.

“Your parents want you to return home immediately,” she said.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. A man from the palace is here. He came with soldiers.”

I rushed home to find a wrinkled emissary as ancient as the Sphinx sitting in the garden on a three-legged stool, with two military officers standing behind him and Mother and Father standing to his side. I stood before the emissary in a pleated wig, dangling earrings, a white dress that clung tightly to me, and a beaded collar that dropped to the top of my bare breasts.

“She’s quite beautiful,” the emissary said to my parents. “Ramesses will be pleased and so will Sety.”

“What are you speaking of, sir?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Have your parents not told you?” he replied. “The Vizier Ramesses is looking for a wife for his son.”

Confusion roiled within me, and I was unprepared for my reaction.

“I’m meant to be a healer, not a wife,” I protested sharply.

“Tuya. Be silent!” Father commanded.

“I want to serve Isis,” I continued. “I want to spend my life in the healing temples, not in the royal palace.”

“Sir,” my embarrassed Father said to the emissary, “this comes as a shock to our daughter. Allow my wife and me to talk with Tuya alone and reason with her.”

“You had better,” the emissary responded. “Ramesses would not tolerate such impudence. He will meet Tuya the day after tomorrow. Soldiers will come here to escort the three of you to the palace.”

“I’ll already be at my palace post, but my wife and daughter will await them, and Tuya will be most presentable,” Father said. “Please tell Ramesses my wife and I are honored that he wants to meet our child.”

I stayed my tongue until the emissary and the officers had left, then shouted at my parents, “Don’t make me do this!”

“Enough, Tuya” Mother shouted back. “If Ramesses accepts you as Sety’s consort then someday you’ll be Queen.”

“I don’t want to be Queen,” I responded angrily, tears gushing from my eyes. “I want to heal people, not command them.”

“This is not your decision,” Father said. “If you won’t think of yourself then think of your mother and me. To be the parents of Sety’s wife will open many doors for us.”

“You think nothing at all of me and my wishes,” I cried.

“We do think of you,” Father replied. “Don’t you understand the opportunity you have here? You could do wonderful work in the healing temples, but think of all you could do as the consort of a Pharaoh. You could serve all of Egypt as his link to the gods.”

I ceased my protest, for I recognized Father’s words were not without merit. For the rest of the day I secluded myself in my room. A servant brought me a meal, but I had none of it, save for a few sips of water. I tried to sleep, but could not, so I sat through the night before the statue of Isis and meditated. Just before dawn, the violet hue enveloped me and I knew Isis wished to converse.

Why do you do this to me?
I asked.

“Do what?” Isis inquired.

Make me live a life I don’t want to live.

“Are you sure you don’t want to live life as royalty?”

I hesitated for a moment, for I was not sure.

I want to serve you, Isis, not a Pharaoh,
I finally said.
I won’t do it.

“What makes you think you are the doer?” Isis replied. “The forces of the Cosmos have brought you to this point. It was not your doing.”

Are you saying I have no choice?

“You always have a choice, but right action does not require making one. When the course of action is clear, Tuya, you know without question what to do. It is not a matter of choosing.”

The violet hue began to diminish.

No, Isis. Don’t leave me.

“I am always with you. Remember, Tuya. All is divine perfection. All is as it should be.”

As the violet hue lifted, a calm descended upon me. The chatter of crickets, the hooting of owls and other noises of the night blended with the gentle ringing inside my head. The sound dissolved into nothingness, yet I heard everything. My eyes were closed, but I saw all.

I sat before the statue of Isis in perfect peace and balance until the light of morning flooded through my bedroom window. I rose, and quenched my thirst with a drink of water. Though I had slept not even for a moment, I enjoyed a clarity of mind I had not known for some time.

Fear has made me act like a silly child.
I said to myself.
I, a commoner, could become the wife of a handsome and virile Pharaoh-to-be and the mother of the heir to the throne. It is not by chance that I’m presented with such an opportunity.

I left my room to join Mother and Father, who were taking their morning meal in the garden.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of the emissary,” I told them. “I would be honored to meet Ramesses at the palace, and I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Father and Mother smiled, for my words had lifted a great burden from them.

“Your choice is a wise one, Tuya,” Father said.

“It is the will of the Cosmos,” I replied. “I had no choice to make.”

VII

The next morning, I rose well before dawn and made my way by olive-oil lamp to the lotus pond. I entered the warm water up to my neck, gazed at celestial worlds sparkling in the black sky above and inhaled the sweet scents of the garden.

Thank you,
I said to the Divine Cosmos, of which I was a part.
You have given me great responsibilities. May I be worthy of your trust.

I stayed in the pond absorbing the energy of the starlight until my skin began to pucker. After I emerged, the servant Tamit, a young woman about my age, came to assist me. She rubbed my body with a coarse cloth, rinsed me with water brought in jars from the Nile, then dried and covered me with a fine linen towel.

“This day is special, for I’m going to the palace to meet the Vizier Ramesses,” I told the servant. “He’s seeking a wife for his son so I must look my best.”

“The son of a Vizier!” Tamit replied with a start. “Don’t worry, My Lady. You will be beautiful in all ways.”

At the dressing table back in my room, the servant applied a few drops of frankincense to my forehead. “This will give you confidence for the meeting ahead,” she said. At my breasts, she rubbed the oil of lotus. “This will open your heart to the possibility of love with the Vizier’s son.”

Tamit took from my cosmetics box a polished brass mirror and held it in front of me. While looking into it, I highlighted my eyes with a green paint made from malachite so they might appear as lush as the fertile Nile, then gave my face a blush by brushing a powder of red ocher onto my cheeks.

The servant helped me into a tight-fitting dress and mantel of white linen. I also donned an overdress of pleated linen as fine as a mist, which I bound at the waist with a golden sash that dropped nearly to the ground. Standing behind me, Tamit placed a wig atop my head, and atop that a cone of ox tallow that would release the sensuous odor of jasmine throughout the day as it softened in the heat.

I slipped on several bracelets of finely tooled gold and copper, and fastened to my lobes golden earrings studded with amethyst. Around my neck, I placed a beaded collar that included much turquoise, and on my fingers several rings, including one carved from alabaster in the form of a scarab. Most of these adornments had been given to Mother by Father and lent to me for this occasion. The earrings, though, had been in Mother’s family for generations, and passed down by the women. Someday they would belong to me, and then to one of my daughters.

Finally, Tamit fastened a delicate cord around my neck that held an icon of Isis with wings. It was made of silver, which was three times more valuable than gold. The talisman had been presented to me by a wealthy landowner in gratitude for a healing I had performed on his son.

“It is good that you wear the image of Isis,” Tamit said. “She will bring you many blessings.”

I slipped on leather sandals, walked outside and faced the dawn. Rays from the sun god Ra warmed and invigorated my body. At my heart center I felt a flutter, as if Isis were moving her wings so that we might soar together into the heavens.

By this time, Mother was up and about. Her clothing was similar to mine, but she appeared drab by comparison.

“You’ve loaned me your best jewelry,” I commented to her as we sat down at a small table in the garden for a morning meal of melon and bread. “Are you sure you wish to do this? You, too, will be meeting the Vizier Ramesses.”

“Don’t be concerned,” Mother replied. “You, not I, should be the center of attention. You look radiant.”

“How could I not, with all the beautiful adornments I’m wearing?”

“It’s not the jewelry. Your beauty comes from within.”

“It is the beauty of Isis that you see, Mother.”

A detail of soldiers arrived soon after we finished our meal. An officer escorted Mother and me to a large, statley chariot drawn by two magnificent horses, one white and another speckled gray. I walked with my head high, feeling quite regal, and took my place in the back of the conveyance opposite Mother and behind our officer escort, who served also as charioteer. We proceeded at a quick pace through the garden gate with six spear-carrying foot soldiers hurrying behind us. Fortunately for those afoot, the journey was not a long one.

We entered the palace grounds through the main gate and proceeded along a limestone path, past colossal buildings covered with brightly colored frescoes depicting stories of the gods and great military victories of Pharaohs. The royal gardens, groomed to perfection, humbled the beautiful garden at my home that I had grown to love so much. Father awaited us in front of the largest building of the palace complex.

“You are most beautiful today, Tuya,” Father said as he took my hand and helped me from the chariot. He assisted Mother in the same way. Father wore his finest kilt, and a cloak onto which he had fastened three golden flies, which attested to his prowess at “stinging” foes in battle.

“I’m pleased you are wearing your decorations,” I said. “Ramesses should know of your bravery.”

With the officer in the lead, Father behind him, and Mother and me side by side behind Father, we climbed the steps of the building and entered the main corridor. Sunlight poured through openings in the ceiling onto a rectangular pool in which ibises and ducks, and even a heron, waded among lotus and papyrus. Grapevines climbed trellises, and birds fluttered and sang high above. As I walked past the mural walls and dozens of brightly painted wooden columns, I resisted the urge to gawk. Though awed by my surroundings, I innately knew this was where I belonged.

We stopped before a huge wooden door. A guard opened it a crack and the officer exchanged words with someone on the other side. Within moments, the guard opened the door fully, and the old emissary who had come to our home beckoned us to pass through.

“Before you sits the exalted Ramesses, Vizier of Egypt,” the emissary said to us in a loud voice.

Ramesses leaned back in a large black and gilt chair located on a dais. My parents and I walked forward. Standing abreast of each other with me in the middle, we bowed from the waist.

“This is Raia, an officer of the Royal Guard,” the emissary said to Ramesses. “He is accompanied by his wife Ruia and their daughter Tuya.”

Ramesses, wearing the simple white vestment of a Vizier that reached from his chest to the floor, rose and walked down the three steps to me. He put his right hand on my chin, lifted my head and looked directly into my eyes.

“So you are the healer I’ve heard so much about,” Ramesses said.

“I am honored to be in your presence,” I replied, staring up at a man a head taller than I. Ramesses, wearing a wig but little jewelry, was older than Father. His skin had lost its luster, but there was an air of great dignity about him, and great energy. Kindness, too, seemed to flow from his dark brown, deep-set eyes.