The Egyptian Royals Collection (68 page)

I AWOKE
in Woserit’s chamber before even the earliest light had filtered through the reed mats.

“Tefer?” I whispered.
“Tefer?”

But Tefer had disappeared, probably to hunt mice or beg food from the kitchens. I sat up in the same bed I had slept in as a child, then kindled an oil lamp lying by the brazier. A breath upon the embers, and then light flickered over unfamiliar walls. Above the door was the image of the mother-goddess Hathor in the form of a blue and yellow cow, a rising sun resting between her horns. Beneath the windows, fish leaped across blue and white tiles, their scales inlaid with mother-of-pearl. And near the balcony Hathor had been depicted as a woman wearing her sacred
menat,
a beaded necklace with an amulet that could protect the wearer from charms. I thought of the painting of my mother in my old chamber and imagined her confusion at seeing Iset beneath her instead of me. I knew that a painting was nothing more than ochre and ink, not like an image in a mortuary temple to which the
ka
returns every Feast of Wag. Still, my mother’s image had watched over me for more than thirteen years, and now, across the courtyard, Iset was in that room preparing for her marriage. I glanced at the corner where my mother’s
naos
should have been and anger blurred my vision. Woserit had warned me. She had said that Iset would try to drive me from Thebes.

My feet felt their way uncertainly through the gloom, as my lamp brought color to the robing chamber ahead. I sat at my makeup chest, taking out a pellet of incense and rubbing it under my arms. I tied back my hair and leaned close to the polished bronze. Woserit believed I could challenge Iset, but what about me could ever compare with Iset’s beauty? I studied my reflection, turning my face this way and that. There was the smile. My lips curved like an archer’s bow, so that I always appeared to be grinning. And there were my eyes. The green of shallow waters touched by the sun.

“My lady?” I heard Merit open my chamber door, and then when she saw that my bed was empty, the heavy pad of her feet into the robing room. “My lady, what are you doing awake?”

I turned from the mirror and felt fierce determination. “I want you to make me as beautiful as Isis today.”

Merit stepped back, then a slow smile spread across her face.

“I want you to bring my most expensive sandals,” I said hotly, “and dust my eyes with every fleck of gold you can find in the palace.”

Merit smiled fully. “Of course, my lady.”

“And bring me my mother’s favorite collar. The one worth a hundred deben in gold.”

I sat before the mirror and inhaled slowly to calm myself. When Merit returned with my mother’s jewels, she placed a bowl of figs on my table. “I want you to eat, and I don’t mean picking at the food like an egret.” She bustled around me, collecting combs and beads for my hair.

“What will happen today?” I asked.

Merit sat on the stool next to me and placed my foot in her lap, rolling cream over my ankle and calf. “First, Pharaoh Ramesses will sail to the Temple of Amun, where the High Priest will anoint that scorpion in marriage. Then there will be a feast.”

“And Iset?” I demanded.

“She will be a princess of Egypt and spend her time in the Audience Chamber, helping Pharaoh Ramesses rule. Think of all the petitions he must stamp. Pharaoh’s viziers oversee thousands of requests, and the hundreds that they approve must go to Pharaoh for final consent. Pharaoh Seti and Queen Tuya aid him already; he can’t do it alone.”

“So now Iset will render judgment?” I thought of Iset’s hatred for learning. She would rather be at the baths gossiping than translating cuneiform. “Do you think that Ramesses will make her Chief Wife?”

“Let us hope our new Pharaoh has more sense than that.” In the cool hours of morning, she stiffened my wig with beeswax and resin, then replaced the beads that had broken in storage. She spent a great deal of time with my kohl, mixing it with palm oil until it was perfectly smooth, then applying it to my eyelids with the thinnest brush I had ever seen. When she turned me around to face the mirror, I inhaled. For the very first time, I looked older than my thirteen years. My face was too small for the wide sweeps of kohl that women like Iset and Henuttawy used, but the fine black lines Merit had extended from the inside of my eyelids to my temples were incredibly flattering. The carnelian beads she’d braided into my wig matched the large carnelian stones of my scarab belt. And the pinch of precious gold dust that she had blown onto the wet kohl highlighted the filigree of my sandals.

I turned to face Merit, and she fastened my mother’s jewels around my neck, then let the hair of my wig fall into place.

“You are as beautiful as Isis,” she murmured. “But only if you sit like a lady. There will be no running around with Pharaoh Ramesses today. This is a marriage, and princes from Babylon to Punt will bear witness if you are acting like a child.”

I nodded firmly. “There will be no running.”

Merit scrutinized me. “No matter what Pharaoh wants. He is King of Egypt now and must behave like one.”

I imagined Iset in my chamber, and all of the things she would do with Ramesses under the painting of my mother come nightfall. “I promise.”

Merit led our path through the crowded halls of the palace. Outside, beyond the linen pavilion, hundreds of courtiers had gathered near the quay where the ships would set sail for the Temple of Amun. Neither Ramesses nor Iset had arrived, and Merit raised a sunshade above our heads to protect us from the rising heat. I couldn’t see any of the students from the edduba, but Asha spotted me from across the courtyard and called out, startled, “Nefer!”

“Remember what I told you,” Merit said severely.

As Asha approached me, his eyes widened. He took in my wide, carnelian belt and the gold that glittered above my eyes. “You’re
beautiful,
Nefer,” he said.

“
I
haven’t changed,” I said heatedly, and Asha stepped back, surprised by my seriousness. “It’s everyone else!”

“You mean your chamber.” Asha glanced at Merit, who pretended not to be listening. “Yes. And she did it out of spite.” Asha lowered his voice. “She may be all sweetness and perfume with Ramesses, but we know the truth. I can tell him—”

“No,” I said at once. “He’ll think that you’re being petty and jealous.”

Trumpets echoed from the quayside, and Iset emerged from the palace, answering their call. I knew that once she reached the quay, she would sail alone to the Temple of Amun on the eastern bank. Ramesses would ride in a vessel behind her, and the court would follow them in boats decorated with silver pennants and gold. Once the High Priest anointed Iset a princess, she would return with Ramesses in his boat, wearing his family ring to signify their union. Then Ramesses would carry her onto the quay and over the threshold of the palace they would come to rule. They would only emerge later that night for the feast. It was his carrying her across the threshold of Malkata that would bind their marriage. Nothing the priests did in the temple could make them married in the eyes of Amun unless he chose to carry her inside, and for a wild moment I imagined that he might refuse. He might realize that Iset was not the rose she pretended to be, but a tangle of thorns, and he would change his mind.

But, of course, this did not happen. Instead, we sailed in a long flotilla of boats down the river, and all along the shore the people began chanting Iset’s name. The women raised ivory clappers above their heads, and those who couldn’t afford such luxuries used their hands as they shouted for their queen. It was as though a goddess had descended to earth. Children floated lotus blossoms on the water, and little girls who caught sight of her face wept with excited joy. When we reached the temple, Ramesses took Iset as his wife, and they returned to the cheers of a thousand guests. Then he took her up in his arms, and they disappeared together into the palace.

The festivity was so joyous that all formality was dismissed, and Asha seized the chance to join me at the viziers’ table. “So Iset is a princess now,” he said. He looked down the length of the pavilion to the closed double doors of the palace. “At least you won’t have to see her anymore. She’ll spend all of her time in the Audience Chamber.”

“Yes. With Ramesses,” I pointed out.

But Asha shook his head. “No. Ramesses will be with me. There is going to be war with the Hittites.”

I put down my cup of wine. “What do you mean?”

“The city of Kadesh has belonged to Egypt since the time of Thutmose. It was the Heretic King who allowed the Hittites to take Kadesh, and all of the port cities that made Egypt wealthy are enriching Hatti now. Pharaoh Seti won’t stand for it anymore. He has reconquered all of the lands that the Heretic lost, and all that remains to be retaken is Kadesh.”

“I know this,” I said, impatient. “I’ve studied it all with Paser. But he never said Egypt was preparing for war
now.
”

Asha nodded. “Probably by Phaophi.”

“But what if Ramesses is killed? Or if you come back maimed? Asha, you’ve seen the soldiers—”

“That won’t happen to us. It’s our first battle. We’ll be well protected.”

“Pharaoh Tutankhamun was well protected, and it didn’t stop his chariot from overturning. He died from that broken leg!”

Asha put his arm around my shoulders. “A king is expected to lead his men into battle. It’s too bad you weren’t born a man, Nefer. You might have come with us. But we’ll come back,” he promised easily. “And you’ll see. Nothing will change.”

I smiled, and hoped it would be so. But in the blur of events, I was learning how poorly hope alone would serve me.

THAT EVENING,
Merit brought me a stick of wax. She held the tip to the flame of the candle, then dripped it slowly onto the papyrus. I waited until the droplets had hardened before pressing my signet ring into the wax. Then I handed the letter to Merit.

“Are you sure you want to send this, my lady? Perhaps you need a few days to think?”

I shook my head. “No, I am certain.”

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

T
HE
W
AYS OF
H
ATHOR

                  
ON MY FOURTEENTH
Naming Day, I went to the edduba as usual. I slipped off my sandals in front of the door, but inside, Paser was not sitting at his table. For the first time since he had been my tutor, Paser was absent. On the reed mats, the students were taking full advantage, chattering among themselves.

“Nefertari!” Baki exclaimed. “Have you heard?”

I set out my reed pen and bottle of ink deliberately. “What?”

“Paser is no longer going to be our tutor. He is vizier to Pharaoh Ramesses now.”

I scrambled from my reed mat. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday. My father told me this morning.” Then he smiled wide enough that I could see his crooked teeth. “And we are to get a new tutor!”

A female shape appeared in the doorway. The students leaped to their feet, and unlike Henuttawy’s entrance, they bowed deeply as Woserit approached, dressed in the long blue robes of Hathor. Her earrings and bracelets and belt were all of lapis, and the crown on her head was crested with small horns.

“Nefertari,” she said. “It’s time.”

The students all looked at me for an explanation, and when the words stuck in my mouth, Woserit explained. “Your new tutor is coming. But Princess Nefertari’s time with you is over. She will be joining me to learn the rites of our temple. She will become a priestess of Hathor.”

A collective gasp arose in the room, but Woserit gave me a nod that meant I should smile and take my leave, and as I made my way past the curious faces, it occurred to me that an important part of my life had finished. No tutor would await me ever again. And although I’d always thought I would feel like an animal released from its cage when my student days were finished, I felt more like a bird that had been pushed from its nest and told it must fly.

I followed Woserit down the path along the lake. Though my heart was pounding, she retained her usual calm, that always seemed to hint at some great purpose. “I visited Merit this morning,” she said, after some time. “Your most important belongings have been packed, and as soon as they’re loaded on Hathor’s ship, we’ll set sail.”

Thebes is a city cleaved in two by water. On the western bank of the River Nile is the palace of Malkata, and on the eastern bank are all of our most sacred temples. Each temple has its own ship, and this is what Woserit used each afternoon when she came to the Audience Chamber, or many evenings when she visited her brother in the Great Hall. Adult life, it seemed, meant movement. For fourteen years I had lived in the same chamber in the palace, and now, within fifteen days, I would be moving twice. Perhaps Woserit understood more than she let on, because her voice softened.

“Moving again and saying farewell will not be as terrible as you think,” she promised.

In the courtyard outside my chamber, a small group had gathered to watch the servants collect my belongings. When I noticed Ramesses and Asha, my heart leaped.

“Nefer!” Asha exclaimed, and Woserit raised her brows.

“Nefer
tari,
” she corrected as he came over. “In the Temple of Hathor she will be properly known as such,” Woserit explained. “Ramesses.” She bowed politely to her nephew. “I will leave you to say your farewell.”

Woserit disappeared inside my chamber, and both Ramesses and Asha spoke at once.

“What does she mean?”

I shrugged. “I’m leaving.”

Ramesses blurted, “Leaving
where?
”

“To the Temple of Hathor,” I said.

“What? To become a priestess? To clean tiles and light incense?” Asha asked.

I am sure part of his shock was in knowing that priestesses must train for twelve months. And although they may marry, many never do.

I suppressed the urge to change my mind. “Yes. Or perhaps to be a temple scribe.”

Ramesses glanced at Asha, to see if he could believe this. “But
why?
”

“What else am I to do?” I asked solemnly. “I have no place in this palace, Ramesses. You’re married now and belong in the Audience Chamber. And soon you’ll be going off to war with Asha.”

“But it won’t last for a year!” Ramesses said. Iset entered the courtyard, and when she saw that Ramesses was with me, she halted sharply in place. “Iset,” he called, “come and bid farewell.”

“Why? Is the princess leaving us?” she asked.

“For the Temple of Hathor,” Ramesses said disbelievingly. “To become a priestess.”

Iset put on her most sympathetic look as she approached. “Ramesses will be so very sorry to see you go. He’s always telling me how much you’re like a little sister to him.” She smiled as she said
little,
and I bit my tongue against saying something nasty. “It’s simply unfortunate we didn’t know sooner. We could have thrown a feast of farewell.” She looked up at Ramesses through her long lashes. “After all, it’s not as though she’ll be returning.”

“Of course she’ll be returning,” Ramesses retorted. “A priestess’s training only lasts a year.”

“But then she’ll be serving Hathor. Across the river.”

He blinked quickly, and there was a moment when he might have embraced me, even in front of Iset. I could see that there was more that Asha wanted to say. But then Woserit appeared with Merit at the head of a caravan of basket-laden servants.

“You can visit her anytime,” Woserit promised. “Come, Nefertari. The boat is waiting.”

I reached around my neck and took off the simple ox-hair’s necklace that Merit hated. “What is
that?
” Iset sneered.

“I made it for her,” Ramesses said defensively, then met my gaze.

“Yes. When I was seven.” I smiled. “I want you to have it to remember me by.”

I placed the necklace in his hands, and it took all of my strength not to look behind me at his crestfallen face as I walked to the quay. From the deck of Hathor’s ship, I looked back at the life that I had always known. Ramesses and Asha waved from the banks, and a small group of students from the edduba had joined them.

“That was very clever, what you did back there. Giving him the necklace.”

I nodded numbly, thinking that it wasn’t cleverness, just love, and Merit placed her arm across my shoulder. “It’s not forever, my lady.”

I pressed my lips together. As I watched the fading shoreline, only one figure remained. She was dressed in red.

“Henuttawy.” Woserit saw the direction of my gaze and nodded. “She thinks that you’ve retreated now, and that it’s only a matter of time before Ramesses forgets about you and turns to Iset for his companionship.”

I prayed that she was wrong but held my tongue, for now I had placed all those prayers in Woserit’s hands.

IT WAS
not a long journey to the Temple of Hathor, and as the boat neared the quay, Merit rose from her stool to gaze at the forest of granite pillars soaring above a polished courtyard.

“No wonder her sister is jealous,” she whispered out of Woserit’s earshot.

Towering obelisks rose against the sky, and beyond the temple, workers in blue kilts tended to Hathor’s sycamore groves. The fresh shoots of the goddess’s sacred trees shone like green jewels.

“Surprised?” Woserit asked us.

Merit admitted, “I knew this was the largest temple in Thebes, but I didn’t realize—”

Woserit smiled. “We have more pilgrims to Hathor in a single month than my sister has in the Temple of Isis in six.”

“Because Hathor’s temple is larger?” I asked.

“Because the pilgrims know that when they bring offerings of deben or lapis lazuli,” Woserit replied, “the offerings will be used to preserve the beauty of the goddess; in her groves, and in the way we keep her temple. But when pilgrims go to the Temple of Isis, their offerings are melted into jewelry that Henuttawy can wear to my brother’s feasts. The most beautiful room in my sister’s temple isn’t the inner sanctum of Isis. It’s her own chamber.”

Now that we had reached the quay, it was possible to see just how large the Temple of Hathor truly was. The painted columns were cast in the sun’s golden light, and gilded images of the cow goddess crowned every limestone pillar. Our ship was greeted by a dozen of Hathor’s priestesses, and servants stood on the shore to unload our belongings.

One of the young women in Hathor’s blue robes approached us with a pair of sandals, handing them to Merit and explaining, “Leather is forbidden in the Temple of Hathor. Sandals must be made of papyrus.”

“Thank you, Aloli,” said Woserit. The young priestess bowed, and a tangle of red curls bounced on her head. “Will you please take Lady Merit and Princess Nefertari to their chambers?”

“Of course, Your Holiness.” She waited while Merit and I replaced our sandals, and as my leather sandals were taken away, I wondered what other pieces of my old life I would have to lose. “May I show you to your rooms?” Aloli asked.

We followed the priestess through the heavy bronze gates of the temple, and through the chambers for the pilgrims to Hathor. As we passed through the halls, I was careful not to step on her sweeping train. Her hips moved with a mesmerizing sway, and I wondered where she’d learned to walk the way she did. “This way,” she instructed, and she led us into the cool recesses of the temple, where silent priestesses moved among the offerants, spreading incense from golden balls.

“The High Priestess has requested that you both be given chambers near to hers,” Aloli said. “But do not expect to see much of her here. This temple requires a great deal of care, and when she’s not in the palace, she’s out in the groves or meeting with pilgrims. This is where the priestesses eat.”

She gestured into a wide room that seemed not so different from the Great Hall of Malkata.

“Trumpets will call the priestesses to ritual once in the morning and once at sunset. After Hathor’s rites are finished they meet in this hall. I think you will find our food similar to what you are used to in the palace.” She looked at me. “Although I would not touch the wine,” she whispered. “The priestesses here like it strong, and a girl of your size might never wake up!” She laughed at her own joke, and Merit’s lips thinned.

“This is where temple patrons come to worship,” Aloli continued. A vast hall spread beneath mosaics of the goddess, and at the foot of a polished statuary worshippers had left bowls of meat and bread. “In Shemu, a woman came who had lost all five of her pregnancies. We found her in the farthest corner.” Aloli pointed to a shadowy niche near a statue of Hathor. “With her husband!” She giggled, and Merit cleared her throat.