Sphinx's Princess (21 page)

He strode out of the hall and his family fell into line behind him. It was all very formal: None of them looked at me, not even my aunt, though I thought I caught sight of Amenophis’s head turning just a bit in my direction. Though the royal family left, I wasn’t abandoned. As if by magic, two female servants appeared beside me the instant that the last princess crossed the threshold. They escorted me back to my rooms, where I found Berett comfortably asleep on the folding bed I’d requested for her. Kepi was waiting up for me and helped me undress. I fell into my bed exhausted and slept like a stone until late the next morning.

I woke up to the sound of women laughing and the smell of fresh, hot bread. For one brief moment I thought that I was home, hearing the voices of Mery and Bit-Bit, and that everything from our departure for Abydos through last night’s feast was only a dream. My sweet illusion only lasted long enough for me to rub the sleep from my eyes and see
sunlight streaming across the marsh scene on my bedroom wall.

So this is real
, I thought, hugging myself.
It’s real, and I’ll have to get through it on my own. Three years …
It seemed like an eternity to be away from my beloved family, but also much too short a time standing between me and marriage to Thutmose.
O Isis, be with me. Show me the good path here and spread your sheltering wings over those I love in Akhmin.

I got out of bed and looked around for Berett. Her bed was empty, though her harp was still there, leaning against one of the legs.
She’s probably with Kepi and the girls
, I thought. I found that my servants had already brought me water for washing and a dress to wear. I was happy to discover that it was one that I’d brought from home. I’d had enough of Aunt Tiye’s gifts. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was keeping count of everything she gave me, and that someday she’d demand repayment in ways I wasn’t going to like.

When I stepped into the outer room of my lodgings, I saw that I’d been right: There was Berett, sitting on the floor with a basket of small, round rolls and a drinking bowl of milk. Her cheeks were stuffed and she was chewing happily while Kepi and the other maids stood around, encouraging her to eat even more.

“Do you like that, my duckie?” Kepi crooned, stroking Berett’s hair. “Do you like bread? Say
bread
for me, won’t you? Come on, I know you can do it. Say
bread.
Listen, if you’ll just say
anything
, any kind of food that you can think of, I’ll bring it for you, but you’ll have to—Oh! Lady Nefertiti! I didn’t know you were awake. Good morning.” She and
the other two bowed, then began fluttering around me, fetching a chair, a table, and my breakfast.

After I’d eaten, I sat back and looked expectantly at my servants. “That was very good, thank you,” I said. “Now tell me, what am I supposed to do today?”

The girls frowned, perplexed by my question. As usual, Kepi spoke for them all: “Why … whatever you like, my lady.”

“Isn’t there someplace I need to go? Something I ought to do?”

She shrugged and turned up her hands, empty of answers. “You have the freedom of the palace. You can go anywhere you like. If there are places where you’re not permitted to be, you’ll be told.”

“Only the palace?” I asked. “What about the city? I’d like to see Thebes.”

Kepi’s face became troubled. “I—It’s not for me to tell you that you can’t leave the palace without an escort or—or permission.”

“And yet you just did.” I smiled to let her know I didn’t blame her for being the messenger who brought me news I didn’t like. “Never mind. I think it would be better for me to be able to find my own way around the palace before I start trying to make sense of the city.”

“That’s a
wonderful
thought, my lady!” Kepi exclaimed. “We will be honored to help you.”

“Thank you, but Berett and I are going to explore on our own.”

I hoped that my refusal hadn’t hurt Kepi’s feelings. She was such a friendly, capable girl that I caught myself
forgetting that she was a servant. The other two did what little work there was in my rooms, but they never spoke much. Either they were too timid or they wanted to keep me at arm’s length, except when they had to serve me. Kepi was different, and thinking about that gave me an idea for something I
could
accomplish that day.

With Berett holding my hand, I walked out into the sunlight. The halls of the women’s quarters were bustling with activity. We saw faces whose complexions ranged over every color from deep ebony to dark brown, to the golden hue of well-baked bread, to the palest tan. Most of the women wore white dresses like mine, though some chose to go bare-breasted and some wore simple sheaths instead of intricately pleated gowns. There were also a few exotic clothes, brightly colored garments from distant kingdoms that were no more than names to me. The ceilings echoed with many different languages, chattering, whispering, arguing. Even though I only knew the tongue of the Black Land, it was easy to tell a curse from a blessing. Sometimes I heard the sharp report of a slap, a distant wail of pain or sorrow, and the ripple of muffled tears.

Then there were the children. Aside from the babies and the toddlers who were still in their nursemaid’s arms, children ran wild everywhere. Their braided youth-locks swung and bounced as they skipped, scampered, and tumbled through the halls and gardens while gold earrings and necklaces with charms to repel demons and the Evil Eye twinkled against their naked bodies. Their laughter was sweeter than any music.

Every so often, one of them would rush up to Berett
and demand to know who she was and if she wanted to play. My poor little girl pressed herself against my side and buried her head in the folds of my dress until the other child gave up and ran off to find another playmate.
It’s only her first full day here
, I thought.
Things will change.
But I wondered if they ever would.

“Why don’t we go somewhere else?” I suggested gently to Berett after about the sixth such encounter. “Yesterday I discovered a lovely little spot, a garden that’s so far from all this tumult that I only found it by accident, because I got lost. Would you like to see if we can find it again?” Berett nodded.

I concentrated on backtracking a path based on the different wall paintings Amenophis and I had passed the other day, but my memory failed when Berett and I reached a series of rooms where swarms of men, young and old, trotted by looking very serious and self-important or sat cross-legged, reading or copying heaps of papyrus scrolls.

“Scribes!” I cried in delight. “Maybe Henenu’s nearby. I’m sorry I can’t find that garden, Berett, but we ought to be able to find him.” She didn’t need to speak to let me know that she thought this was a brilliant idea.

It took me three tries before I could get one of the scribes to agree that I was important enough for him to stop his work and answer my question. “Ah yes, Henenu, I know him well. At this hour he’ll be with his students. Follow me.” He led us to a room where our old friend sat supervising rows of very young boys as they practiced writing, copying texts onto pieces of broken pottery. When Henenu saw us,
he let out a shout of joy so loud that several of his pupils made a mess of their lessons.

“My dear friends, you’ve found me! This is a blessing. How did you sleep? Are your rooms comfortable? What did you think of—?” He bit off the end of his question and cast a wary eye over his students. “Perhaps we ought to go elsewhere to talk.”

He told the boys that he’d be gone a short while, gave them orders to copy a page of tax records, and warned them against acting up until he came back. We hadn’t taken five steps out of the classroom before we heard the sounds of laughter, crude noises, and scuffling.

Henenu sighed. “Boys. Sometimes I think the only difference between my pupils and donkeys is that if you beat a donkey for misbehaving, he won’t do it again.” Still complaining, he walked down the hall ahead of us, peering into every room we passed until he found one that was unoccupied. It was lined with many storage chests and baskets full of poetry fragments. Plopping down on the floor, he let out a deep breath and said, “
Now
I can speak freely. What did you think of the prince?”

“Which one?” I asked with a wry grin, and told him about my odd introduction to Thutmose’s gangly younger brother. “The weirdest thing is, Aunt Tiye never mentioned him once,” I finished. “If he hadn’t been at dinner last night, I never would have known she’s got two sons.”

“The queen …” Henenu clasped his hands in his lap and didn’t look at me directly. “The queen has put so much of herself into grooming Prince Thutmose to follow in his
father’s footsteps that she may—she must be forgiven for overlooking her second-born son.” Lifting his plump chin, he added: “You haven’t answered my question, Lady Nefertiti. What do you think of Prince Thutmose?”

“I think that it’s too soon to judge him,” I replied, keeping my tone as neutral as my words.

I would have done better to speak normally. By trying to say nothing, I’d said too much. Henenu was a smart man and a longtime resident of the royal palace, with ears attuned to what you
didn’t
say as well as what you did. “You don’t like him,” he stated.

“Oh, Henenu, he’s such a
cold
person,” I cried.

“Hmm, yes, that’s Prince Thutmose. I’ve known him since he was born. He was a merry child, but then the queen began teaching him that a future Pharaoh must always be dignified, as befits a god on earth. It didn’t matter that his own father, as much of a god as our prince will ever be, is one of the best-humored men I’ve known; Queen Tiye insisted on training all the joy out of him. The only time we get a glimpse of the old Prince Thutmose is when he plays with his cat, Ta-Miu. She must be a sorceress in disguise; she owns the secret for making him happy.”

“Is that so?” It was an empty question. Henenu wouldn’t lie to me. I felt a deep pity for Thutmose, and sorry that I’d judged him so hastily, after only one conversation. “Well … he might be a warmer person once I get to know him. Perhaps I could talk to Ta-Miu and find out how she does it,” I joked, wanting to lighten my mood.

“Ah, you know how to talk to cats?” Henenu teased back.

“Not yet, but I’ve got more than enough time to learn. Three years is a long time, and what else will I have to do?”

Henenu shrugged. “I know only what a scribe does all day, not a princess.”

“Princess?” I repeated.

“You weren’t told?” Henenu looked as surprised as I felt. “By the divine will of Pharaoh Amenhotep, you were named Lady Nefertiti, Royal Daughter, Excellent in Grace, Beloved of Hathor, and a string of other titles that all mean you are now as much a princess of the Black Land as Sitamun and the others. It was one of the first things the queen arranged when she came home yesterday. Prince Thutmose can’t marry a commoner.”

“His father did,” I said. Meanwhile my thoughts swirled around my new status:
A princess! If Bit-Bit was here, she’d want to know why I’m not leaping for joy. A princess! That’s my little sister’s dream, not mine. It’s supposed to be an honor, but it feels like a rope’s been tied around my neck, dragging me down the one road Aunt Tiye wants me to walk. What can a princess do except marry a prince? No. I’m
not
a princess. Who cares
what
Aunt Tiye made Pharaoh decree? If he decreed that
she
was a hawk, would she jump off a roof and expect to fly?
I
say what I am, who I am, and I say that if she thinks plain Nefertiti of Akhmin isn’t good enough for Thutmose, she should send me home tomorrow. Three more years and all the titles in the world won’t change a thing.

“Merciful Isis, what’s the matter, Nefertiti?” Henenu asked. “What a face! I just told you that you’ve been made a princess, and you look ready to tear me to shreds with your bare hands.”

“Is it that bad?” I asked lightly, forcing a smile. “I don’t
think it’s right that I’m the last to know about being a princess, but was I
really
making such a monstrous face about it?” I struck the same dramatic pose I’d seen in paintings and carvings of past pharaohs triumphing over their enemies in war. “If only Aunt Tiye had made me a princess years ago, I could’ve used my
great
and
mighty
royal authority to
command
Father to let us continue our lessons!” I dropped the arm that was holding an invisible war club. “Then I
know
what I’d do all day.”

Henenu tilted his large head and gave me a thoughtful look. “Why not?”

“Good morning, Nefertiti! Did you sleep well? No lions?” Sitamun called out to me gaily as I climbed the last of the steps leading up to one of the palace’s flat roofs. It was the same greeting she gave me every morning since the day I’d confided in her about my childhood nightmares. I didn’t mind: Her words were a never-failing reminder that I’d made at least one true friend since my arrival at Thebes nearly half a year ago. I only wished that Aunt Tiye’s oldest daughter were someone closer to my own age. There were at least ten years between us.