Sphinx's Princess (29 page)

“You don’t know that,” I said. “If that wmoan could turn Pharaoh against Thutmose, why couldn’t she turn him against any child Thutmose might have as well?”

“Whose side are you on, you ungrateful girl?” My aunt was no longer willing to hear reason. Her suspicions of plots and conspiracies had just been proved right, and she was even more frightened than before. “Once this affair is settled, you
will
marry my son!”

“Aunt Tiye, you took a public oath,” I reminded her, speaking in a soothing voice. We didn’t need a shouting match. “You swore before Amun to give me these three years—two, now. I’m not ready to become Thutmose’s wife.”

“Get
ready.” Once again, my aunt’s eyes were dagger blades. “Two years is too long for us to wait. My husband isn’t—isn’t well.” Her expression softened to one of true regret and worry. She did love him, and not merely because he’d given her a crown. Her lapse lasted only a moment. “The women’s quarters is a nest of vipers’ eggs. More can hatch in two years’ time. I won’t wait to see it. You’ll be my son’s bride before the next season of the Inundation. It’s settled.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off: “I know how attached you are to that little slave girl who came with you from Akhmin. I made it my
business
to know. If simple loyalty to your family means nothing to you, maybe you’ll act more sensibly for
her
sake.”

I surged to my feet. “You can’t touch her,” I said.

“Because she’s
your
slave?” Aunt Tiye looked as if she pitied me. “One word in Pharaoh’s ear and she’s mine. My husband still loves me, even if he wastes his time and strength with those others.” Her mouth twisted in disgust.
“When morning comes, he’ll awake to the news of how those two from Ugarit intended to deceive and manipulate him. He’ll also learn how well I dealt with the matter, saving him the trouble. He’ll be so pleased that he’ll give me anything I ask for, and if all I want is one insignificant slave child …”

“Nava isn’t a slave!” I shouted. I couldn’t help it; I couldn’t hold back anymore. “I gave her her freedom months ago. Henenu the scribe and your own daughter Sitamun witnessed the document, and Henenu himself carried a copy of it to the shrine of Ma’at, for safekeeping.”

“They
would
help you.” Aunt Tiye shot a bitter look at her eldest daughter. Sitamun met it calmly. “Whispers run through these halls like mice. You wouldn’t believe what people notice. When I first came here as a young bride, I decided to harness those mice to serve me. Every servant under this roof knows he’ll be handsomely rewarded for any information I find interesting. It’s a shame they can only fetch me scraps of knowledge. Why
does
Henenu meet so often with you and my Sitamun and that Habiru child? Many servants have seen you all climbing to one particular rooftop, day after day, but unfortunately none of them could find any excuse for going after you to learn more.”

“If I tell you, you should reward
me,”
I said. “For that, and because I was the one who told you about the Ugarit women’s plot, not your ‘mice.’ You owe me a debt, Aunt Tiye: Repay it. Let Nava and me go home.”

Aunt Tiye’s smile could be more unsettling than her scowl. “But, Nefertiti, you
are
home,” she drawled. “Your
future is here, on the throne of the Black Land as the next Pharaoh’s Great Royal Wife.” She grew thoughtful. Seeing the sly look that crept into her eyes made the short hair at the nape of my neck prickle with apprehension. “A common scribe, alone in secret with
two
royal princesses, and no one knows the reason why? That can’t be appropriate. He should be questioned. Thutmose, my son, since your promised bride is one of them, can I trust you to do whatever it will take to get the
truth
from Henenu?”

Thutmose’s smile was every bit as unnerving as his mother’s. “Gladly. You’re right as always, Mother: No man but me should spend time alone with my beloved Nefertiti.” He gave his brother a hard look. “The scribe will be questioned and punished. I’ll have the guards secure him at once.” With that, he started for the door.

“You can’t be serious!” Sitamun exclaimed, running to block his way. “There was nothing improper about our meetings with Henenu. He was helping us learn how to improve our scribal skills, that’s all. I swear it by Ma’at!”

“And so do I!” I cried. I no longer cared if Aunt Tiye found out that I knew how to read and write. Henenu’s future was in the balance. Next to that, it didn’t matter if she tried to force me to take my mother’s place as her new Seshat.

“Sitamun, stand aside!” Aunt Tiye commanded. “Would you throw your own family to the crocodiles? We must take every precaution to defend the security of our royal house. Even a
hint
of scandal could become a weapon for our enemies.” She turned toward me. “Even if you swore a
thousand oaths, the scribe must be questioned, and the slave—the
freed
slave girl, too.” Her eyes never left my face.

The noises from outside the royal apartments had subsided; dawnlight was seeping in through the high, narrow windows. I was weary of Aunt Tiye’s game-playing, wholly drained by the events of the night, too worn-out to fight anymore. And how
could
I fight when she’d just shown me she held Nava in the palm of her hand?

All I wanted was peace.

“Will you swear a new oath, Aunt Tiye?” I asked softly. “You know as well as I that Nava and Henenu are blameless. Will you promise to leave them alone if I—if I give you what you want? Promise that, and I swear that before another month passes, Thutmose and I will be—”

“No!”
The word resounded through the queen’s chamber with the might of a lion’s roar. “Don’t do it, Nefertiti. Marry my brother when
you
want, not an instant sooner!” Amenophis strode across the room on those gawky, comical legs to stand beside Sitamun, barring Thutmose’s path, facing his mother’s fury. “I won’t let you twist her arm like this, Mother. If you complain to Father that Henenu’s done something wrong, I’ll go to him myself and testify that the scribe is innocent.”

“You’d lie for this girl?” There was a dangerous note in Aunt Tiye’s voice. “The gods will condemn you for that. Ammut the Devourer will have your heart if you defy me.”

“Then let her! You’re always talking about how important it is for us to stay
loyal
to our family, to
protect
our family, to work for what’s
best
for our family. Are you forgetting
that Nefertiti’s part of our family, even if she never marries Thutmose? Yet you’re willing to bully her into something she doesn’t wa—isn’t ready for, and you don’t care if you destroy innocent people to do it.”

“You stupid
child,”
Aunt Tiye spat. “Apologize to me at once!”

Amenophis folded his arms and said nothing.

“You heard Mother!” Thutmose grabbed his brother, spun him around, and knocked him to the floor with a backhanded blow. “You need more than one lesson in manners. Get up. Get up, if you’re a man.”

“But I’m not. Didn’t you hear what Mother said?” Amenophis’s fleshy lips parted in a provoking smile. He clambered back to his feet, blood trickling from his nose, and told his brother: “I’m a child. If you want me to fight you so that you’ve got an excuse to beat me, you’ll be waiting a long time. You’ll just have to do it with no excuse at all.”

Thutmose let out a hoarse bellow and struck him again. This time Amenophis staggered but didn’t fall. Thutmose was about to throw himself on his brother when Aunt Tiye stepped between them.

“Are you my son or are you Set the Destroyer? Let your brother be.” She surveyed the room. Sitamun looked ready to fight the next person who said a cross word to her. Her sisters, on the other hand, had withdrawn into a corner and were chattering in undertones among themselves, their eyes darting from Amenophis to Thutmose to their mother. As dearly as I wanted to collapse from carrying the weight of
my bones, I forced myself to stand tall when she looked at me.

The queen sighed. “This isn’t what I wanted. Go, all of you. No one will be questioned. Nefertiti, it’s true that I owe you my thanks for having told me about those creatures and their plot. It was pure luck that you discovered it, but luck is a precious gift. The gods must love you and I … I must respect that. My oath before Amun still stands, but hear me: Your part of it does as well. Two more years, girl. Less, if you get the sense to wake up and recognize your opportunity. Now go.”

We all did as she commanded, most of us looking thankful to be making our escape. Thutmose stamped off down the hall without a backward look, cursing as he went. Sitamun’s sisters scurried away in the opposite direction like a spooked covey of quail. Sitamun, Amenophis, and I didn’t say a word to one another, yet somehow we agreed to walk away together until we found ourselves back on the humble rooftop where Henenu had his unofficial classroom. The sun was a thin slice of gold on the horizon.

“I wonder what will happen to them,” I said very quietly, sitting in my usual spot. The rooftop was still cool from the night’s chill.

“Who?” Sitamun asked.

“The Ugarit women. The nobleman who was going to help the pretty one. The other one’s child.”

“Father’s going to laugh about the whole business and give each of them a handful of gold and a vineyard or two in the country. What do you
think
will happen to them, you straw-head?” Sitamun snapped.

I knew she spoke so sharply only because she was as tired as I was and her nerves were frayed, but her harshness still hurt. Tears spilled down my cheeks. “They’ll all be put to death, won’t they? Even the boy?”

“Not the boy.” Amenophis squatted next to me, looking like a gigantic grasshopper. “He’s still Father’s son, no matter what his mother’s done. There’s even a chance that Father will show mercy to those women, exile and imprisonment instead of death. The man, though—his treachery to Pharaoh can’t be forgiven; his punishment can’t be lessened.”

I covered my eyes with one hand. “I wish I’d never overheard that conversation. I mean—I wish I’d never told Aunt Tiye about it. I should have gone directly to Pharaoh, or the vizier, or—or
anyone
else. But I thought that if I told Aunt Tiye first, she’d be so indebted to me that she’d let me go home. Instead—” I raised my head and looked at the fresh marks on Amenophis’s good-natured, homely face. “I’m sorry you were hurt again because of me.”

He laughed. “I was hurt because my brother’s got the temper of a wild jackass.”

“That’s being kind about it,” Sitamun said with a smirk. Her good humor was returning.

“And you, Amenophis,” I said, brushing away my tears and smiling again. “You surprised me. You were so brave! You stood up to Aunt Tiye for me, you saved Henenu, you protected Nava, you—”

“If I were brave, I wouldn’t have stayed away from you for so long. If I challenged Mother, it’s not because I’m brave. I just—I just didn’t want you to be unhappy,
Nefertiti,” he said, standing up and turning his face to the sun. “Because we’re—we’re … friends.”

Had I imagined it, or had his voice stumbled painfully over that final word? I had no chance to know. With his next breath he was halfway down the stairs from the rooftop and gone.

In the aftermath of the great plot, the women’s quarters became much quieter. Now Pharaoh’s other wives eyed me with respect and a little fear whenever we met. A few stared at me with hostility, but only when they thought I couldn’t see. One evening I found a dead frog in my bed. I got rid of it before Kepi or the other maids could see it. I didn’t need more whispers trailing after me.

My worst fear was that since that night, Aunt Tiye knew about my ability to read and write. I recalled Father’s fears that his sister would try to force me into the same role as my mother. Worse, it would be yet another reason for her to keep me in the palace. (Sometimes I really was foolish enough to imagine that she might have a change of heart and let me go home.)

I needn’t have worried. About two weeks after the night of the failed plot, Pharaoh became ill again. It was very serious—so serious that not a single hint about his health
was allowed to slip out of the royal apartments into the rest of the palace. No one waited on him except slaves, who had more to lose than servants, much more easily, if they talked about anything they’d seen.

Aunt Tiye vanished from the palace halls, except when some keen-eyed servant or official spied her rushing from her husband’s apartments to the small audience chamber and back again. Sitamun came to our lessons looking sad and worried.

“I never thought I’d say this, but—poor Mother! When she’s not at Father’s bedside, scolding his doctors, priests, and magicians, she’s working with the vizier and the rest of the royal advisers, receiving ambassadors, hearing pleas, keeping in touch with the local governors. I don’t know when she finds the time to eat or sleep.”

“Is there anything I can do to help her?” I asked. In spite of what she’d put me through, she was still my aunt, and I knew she loved her husband sincerely. My heart went out to her. “She’ll wear herself out and then she’ll be sick, too.”