Sphinx's Princess (32 page)

“Cats are
always
sacred, not just during Bast’s festival,” Thutmose said amiably, taking Ta-Miu from my arms and scratching her sleek brown spotted head in exactly the spot that sent her into ecstasies of purring. “But my Ta-Miu would be special even if the goddess Bast weren’t her mother. She’s destroyed at least five scorpions that I know of, and countless mice. Her mother killed cobras—just small ones, but still—! It’s impossible for a snake to get into the palace, though if one could, no doubt Ta-Miu would prove her own worth as a warrior.”

He gave her an additional scratch under the chin and put her down. She promptly jumped back up onto the table and rubbed her head against the glass wine vessel. It wobbled, tottered, and crashed to the floor, splashing my dress. The cat looked around the room with a “who did that?” expression in her huge green eyes. We all laughed.

The only false note amid the joy of Thutmose’s party was Amenophis. My friend smiled and laughed, feasted and
drank, clapped his hands to the music, and called out compliments to the hired dancers as well as to his sisters and me, but it seemed that there was something hollow in his words and actions.

Perhaps I’m imagining it
, I thought.
I’ve been drinking a lot of wine; I could be seeing things that aren’t really there.
But when I took a good, long look at Amenophis, I couldn’t deny the touch of sadness I saw in his eyes.

There was nothing I could do about it, no matter how much I wanted to ask him to share his sorrow. Even though Thutmose was behaving like an ordinary young man—one who didn’t spend his days seeing conspiracies under every leaf in the gardens and around every corner in the palace—I wasn’t going to put him to the test by speaking to his brother right in front of him.

“What are you staring at, my lovely Nefertiti?” Thutmose asked. His question took me off guard, so much so that I realized I hadn’t taken my eyes off Amenophis for several long breaths.

“I—nothing,” I said.

Thutmose chuckled. “You shouldn’t call my brother nothing, Lady Nefertiti. Until I marry and have a son of my own, he’s
my
crown prince.”

“I didn’t mean to stare at him,” I protested. Amenophis shifted uneasily in his seat throughout my conversation with his older brother. “My mind was wandering. I must be getting sleepy. I should go back to my rooms.”

“Nonsense, the evening has barely begun! Drink a little less, eat a little more, and you’ll drop all this silly talk of going to bed. It wouldn’t be a party if you left us so soon.”

He slipped his arm around my waist. I braced myself for the unpleasant experience of being forcibly propelled back to my seat, but to my surprise, Thutmose gave me only the gentlest touch, a suggestion and not a shove. The expression on his handsome face was gracious and agreeable. I let him help me back to my place, amazed at the change in him.

If he’d been like this when we first met, I might have married him by now
, I thought, though it might have been the wine helping me forget that a few hours’ kindness was not enough to outweigh his past fits of jealous rage or the bruises he’d left on his brother’s face.

“Thank you for consenting to stay with us a while longer, Nefertiti,” he said, once more passing me the plate of honeyed date cakes. “I promise that you won’t regret it. I have no intention of letting this party last until dawn, though we’re all having such a good time that I hate to see it end. But I need my sleep, too. I’m going hunting tomorrow.”

“On the river again?” I remembered the last occasion when he’d mentioned a hunting trip to me. It was part of our time of compulsory togetherness, when Aunt Tiye held Thutmose’s beloved cat hostage, forcing him to court me. It hadn’t been a happy time for either of us.

“Better,” he said. “Into the Red Land, where there are lions. I’ll be hunting them from my chariot. Shall I bring you a trophy?”

“I’d rather have the chariot ride,” I blurted.
Did I just say that out loud?
I was stunned by my own audacity.
Stupid wine. Stupid
me
for drinking so much.
I stuffed a piece of cake into my mouth to cover my embarrassment.

Thutmose put another sweet morsel into my hands and smiled. “Is that true? Then, please, ride with me. I wasn’t going to invite you because I thought you might feel compelled to accept. But if it’s something you
want
to do …” He regarded me hopefully.

I wouldn’t lie. “Yes, very much.”

“Then we’ll go tomorrow morning.”

“But you’ll miss your lion hunt!” I said. “You shouldn’t give it up for me, not if you’ve been looking forward to it.”

His teeth were bright and sharp as the edge of the crescent moon. “There will always be lions to hunt in the Red Land, but how many times have you been so willing to share my company? Rare things must be treasured.” I blushed again and ate more cake.

The next morning I woke up feeling ill from having eaten and drunk so greedily the night before. My head throbbed, my stomach was bloated, and I was too queasy to stir from my bed.
I can’t ride in a chariot like this!
I thought, and groaned with disappointment.

I called for Kepi and sent her to deliver my regrets to Thutmose. “You must be absolutely certain that he understands I really am sick,” I told her. “Swear by the gods, if you must.” She acknowledged my request with a low bow and hurried away. When she returned, I didn’t even give her the chance to enter my bedroom before showering her with questions: “Did you find him? What did he say? Did he believe you? Was he angry or upset or—?”

“You must judge that for yourself, Lady Nefertiti,” she said, crossing the threshold and stepping to one side as Thutmose himself and a stocky old man with a wrinkled
monkey’s face came in. He was well-dressed, and his necklace was adorned with many protective symbols like the Eye of Horus, the ankh, and the scarab. He carried a small clay pot that was giving off a weird odor.

“Nefertiti, this is Ptah-hotep the physician,” Thutmose said. “He was one of the healers whose knowledge helped my father. I’ve brought him in hopes he can cure you so that you won’t need to miss our ride.”

The old physician strode haughtily to my bedside. “Where is the chief maid?” he demanded. When Kepi bowed before him, he commanded: “You will send one of the other servants to fetch honey. You will bring a large bowl and put it beside the lady’s bed.” His directions were quickly fulfilled. None of my maids wanted to keep Prince Thutmose waiting. Once he was satisfied with the preparations, he presented me with the little pot. “I was told you have an affliction of the belly, my lady. Drink this, and I swear by the lives of my grandchildren, it will trouble you no more.”

I sniffed at the clay pot uncertainly. “What is this?”

“Nothing extraordinary: goose fat, fresh cow’s milk, and cumin, boiled together and strained. It is a well-known remedy.”

“I think I feel better already,” I said, trying to give the vile-looking, hideous-smelling stuff back to him. It was no use. Ptah-Hotep began lecturing me sternly about all of his greatest successes in the healing arts and about the horrible fates of patients who’d been foolish or stubborn enough to refuse his treatments. I gulped down the potion just to silence him. It stayed in my stomach for as long as it took to
count to twelve and then I threw up right into the bowl Kepi had brought. Ptah-Hotep nodded, pleased.

“Now a few spoonfuls of honey and you may resume your normal activities,” he said. I wanted to argue that I was too drained to do anything, but as soon as Kepi fed me the second dollop of honey, I felt restored. Within the hour I was out of bed, dressed, and accompanying Thutmose to his waiting chariot.

We rode out of the palace and through the streets of Thebes, but we didn’t ride alone. Four other chariots galloped with us, each bearing a driver and an armed soldier. The people who saw us coming sprinted to get out of the way of Thutmose’s blue and red bronze-trimmed chariot, some of them just barely dodging the flying hooves of his tawny-coated horses. In the wider, more prosperous streets, those who saw us rumble by would raise their hands to the heavens, calling down the gods’ blessings on their crown prince, but in places where the streets were only wide enough for one chariot at a time to pass, the folk on foot had to take refuge between vendors’ stalls or press themselves flat against the walls of the buildings. Any prayers they uttered were for their own safety. Thutmose took no notice of them as he whipped his horses to go faster and faster until we broke free of the city and were on the same flat plain where Amenophis used to bring me for my lessons with the bow and the chariot.

“Now I’ll show you some good horsemanship,” he said, and he made the whiplash in his hand crack through the air as it struck the animals’ backs. They whinnied shrilly and
put on a fresh burst of speed, foam streaming from the corners of their mouths, leaving our accompanying chariots smothered in the dust thrown up by our careening wheels.

“Slow down, please slow down,” I gasped, holding on desperately. Speed didn’t scare me—I’d braced my feet the way I’d done when Amenophis let me race his chariot—but I knew that these vehicles were clumsy and unreliable at sharp turns. Thutmose paid no attention. He leaned into the wind, entranced, and made the chariot skim and swerve dangerously. His gaze was on the horizon, and he looked as if he were aching for the impossible instant when we would go so fast that all of us—horses and riders together—would sprout hawks’ wings and soar into the sun.

I
thought
I’d had that feeling when I’d been the one holding the chariot reins, giving the horses their freedom to race flat out. Now, looking at the spellbound expression on Thutmose’s face, I realized that I’d known only the pale ghost of what he was experiencing, body and soul.

He doesn’t care how dangerous this is any more than he cared if we trampled innocent people when we were riding through Thebes
, I thought, panic rising in me.
He doesn’t care how mercilessly he beats the horses, if we crash, if our bones are shattered, even if we die!
“Stop, stop, please
stop
, Thutmose!” I screamed. “For the love of Amun, stop before it’s too late!”

Was it wishful thinking or did I sense him tightening his hold on the reins, gradually easing the horses from their heart-straining, headlong rush back down to a more moderate pace? I held my breath as their gallop became a canter, then a trot, and at last—thank the gods!—a walk. While our
escorts raced to catch up to us, Thutmose grinned at me like a naughty child who’d done a great mischief and gotten away with it.

“Sweet Isis, what were you thinking?” I cried, trying not to choke on the dust still settling around us.

“I was thinking that you’d enjoy seeing what
real
driving is,” he said lightly. “I love it, but it seems that it’s too much for you. My apologies, Nefertiti. We won’t do that again.”

“I wasn’t afraid of how fast we were going,” I said, on the defensive. “You steered so violently, taking such sharp turns that I thought we were going to flip over.”

“But
did
we?” He laughed and handed me the reins. “Why don’t you show me the
right
way to drive?”

I looked at him steadily. “You know—?”

“My brother took you riding, showed you the temples, taught you how to use a bow, how to guide a chariot, all of that, yes. You know how riddled with Mother’s spies the palace is. I sometimes think that
she
doesn’t know how many there are.
You’ve
even played the spy’s part for her, even if it was by accident. Why are you giving me
that
look?” He tucked my loosened hair back behind my ears with an unexpectedly delicate touch. “I’m not insulting you. I’m grateful that you saved us all from the conspiracy of those Ugarit women. But yes, I do know how happily you and Amenophis spent time together. Why do you think I was so very envious of him? You obviously
enjoyed
his company.”

“Maybe if you’d given me some sign that you enjoyed
mine, too,” I murmured too low for him to hear. I pushed the reins back at him. “I would love to drive these horses, but I can’t. Look at them. They’re ready to die.”

“Pff!
They’re strong enough to survive a little exercise. I’ll tell you what: Take them. They’re yours, and the chariot too, my gift to you. I’ll even see to it that the guards at the palace gate let you come and go as you please, completely on your own”—he paused, looking almost shy—“though I would like it if you’d allow me to go with you at least once, so I can see if my brother’s taught you well.”

“You rule Thebes,” I said softly. “You have the authority to do whatever you want. You don’t need to get my permission for anything.”

Thutmose didn’t react right away. He turned to the four chariots surrounding us and made a slashing gesture. “We don’t need you hovering so close. There’s no danger here. Move farther off!” He waited until our escorts had put enough distance between themselves and us to give us privacy, then said, “That’s not the way it’s going to be between us from now on, Nefertiti. When Father proclaimed that he trusted me to rule Thebes in his absence, everything changed. His decision means my place as crown prince is secure. I now stand only one small step away from sharing the rule of all the Black Land with him. He’s not well, and a co-regency would ease his burden. Once that’s established, who else could possibly be the next Pharaoh but me?”

He held my face tenderly in both of his hands and said: “I don’t need to marry you anymore. I give you your freedom.” He sealed the promise with a kiss that made my
blood sing and my head spin happily, as though I’d drunk unwatered wine.

Of course he apologized afterward. “I’m sorry, I had no right to do that. I couldn’t help it. I just wanted to know how it felt to kiss such a beautiful girl, and since I’ll never have another chance …” He tried to look shamefaced, but his ear-to-ear smile gave away the lie.

My heart was pounding so hard that I could only nod. I couldn’t tell if it was the heat of the sun or the blood rushing to my face that made me so uncomfortably hot.
Another chance …
, I thought.