The Heretic Queen (35 page)

IN THE Great Hall that evening, Iset arranged Nubian dancers for the court's entertainment. Beneath papyrus bud columns twined with blossoms, perfumed women fluttered between tables, laughing behind their heavy golden cups as the generals told stories of their adventures abroad. Sermet beer flowed from open barrels, and bowls were filled with roasted goose in rich pomegranate paste and wine.

"While Ramesses is marching toward rebellion," I seethed under my breath to Woserit, "they are drinking and dancing!"

On the dais, Henuttawy raised a cup of wine. "To Iset," she announced cheerfully. "And to her second child who will one day rule Thebes!" The table raised their cups to Iset, and the few women who hadn't heard the pregnancy rumors now squealed in delight. When I refused to raise my cup, Henuttawy asked, "What's the matter, Nefertari? Not enjoying the feast?"

The viziers looked at me, studying my carefully hennaed breasts and the wide silver belt around my waist. Merit had taken extra care with my kohl, extending the line out to my temples and shading my eyelids with malachite. But all of the paint in Egypt could not cover my disgust.

"Does she look as if she's enjoying the feast?" Rahotep asked. "Everyone at court abandoned her today to be with Iset."

Henuttawy gave an exaggerated gasp. "
Everyone?
" she repeated. "I'm sure it wasn't everyone."

"You're right," Rahotep corrected himself. "There were a few courtiers who wished to play Senet." The emissaries around the table laughed. "But the princess wasn't idle," he revealed. "While Iset was preparing for the Feast of Wag, Nefertiti was listening to a petition from the greatest heretic in Thebes. He asked for her by name."

There was a shocked murmur around the table, and Woserit darted a questioning look at me. But Henuttawy clapped her hands with delight. "Well, you know what they say. Ravens will flock with ravens."

"And scorpions will nest with scorpions," I replied, looking between her and the High Priest of Amun. I stood from my throne, and Woserit stood with me.

"Leaving so early?" Henuttawy called, but Woserit and I ignored her taunt.

Outside the Great Hall, Woserit turned to me. "What happened in the Audience Chamber?" she demanded. But the doors of the Great Hall swung open, and Paser joined us in the courtyard. Woserit hissed at him, "You allowed
a heretic
to see Nefertari?"

I rested my hand on the swell of my stomach and tried to fight back a sudden nausea. "He wouldn't give his petition to anyone else," I explained. "His name was Ahmoses; he was a Habiru."

"But tell her what he wanted." Paser's look was riotous.

I realized he had heard more than I'd thought in the Audience Chamber. "For me to free the Habiru from the military."

"
Every
Habiru?" Woserit exclaimed.

"Yes. He calls himself the leader of his people. He wishes to take the Habiru back to Canaan where they may worship as they please."

"Canaan is still Egyptian land," Woserit said angrily.

Paser shook his head. "Only in name. There are no temples to Amun or shrines to Isis. He clearly thinks that the Habiru would be free to worship whom they wish in the land of Sargon."

I recalled the ancient myth Paser had taught us in the edduba, about the high priestess in the east who secretly gave birth to a son despite her vow of chastity. She had placed her newborn infant in a basket made tight with reeds and set it adrift in the River Euphrates where the child was found by Aqqi, the water bearer. The boy was given the name of Sargon, and he grew up to be a powerful king, conquering the lands of Gutium and Canaan. And now, Ahmoses wished to return to the land that Sargon had made fruitful.

Woserit exchanged a look with Paser. "Why did he request to see Nefertari, and not Iset?" she asked suspiciously.

"Because Princess Nefertari has a reason to grant his request," Paser guessed. "He knows that she could win favor with the people by telling them she is expelling the heretics from Thebes."

Woserit looked at me. "It
could
turn the people in your favor. There would never again be any question of your faith in Amun."

"You can't seriously consider it!" I exclaimed.

"A
sixth
of Egypt's army is Habiru," Paser warned. "Someday, the Hittites--"

But the seed had been planted in Woserit's mind. "She could finally win over the people, Paser . . ."

"I'll win them some other way," I said. "Ramesses can't risk Egypt's safety for me."

"He could increase the army's pay," she protested. "More men would join."

"With what gold?" Paser asked wryly.

"He could increase taxes on the land."

"And have the people resent
him
instead? Think of what you are saying," Paser said. He placed a tender hand on her shoulder. "There are other ways for her to win the people's love."

"And Rahotep?" she asked. "Did he hear all of this?"

"No. He was listening to petitioners. But Merit has told me what he did," I said darkly.

Woserit sighed heavily. "I know it was a terrible thing to learn. Especially the fire--"

"You knew he set the fire?" I cried.

"No one knows for certain," Paser said quietly.

"But everyone believes it?"

Neither Paser nor Woserit denied it.

"You must never speak a word of this to anyone," Woserit cautioned. "No matter how your heart bleeds, let only the gods hear its cries. Do not weep on anyone's shoulder. Not even Ramesses's."

I pressed my lips together, and Paser added emphatically, "
Especially
not Ramesses."

"The truth does not stay buried forever," Woserit promised. "Eventually the winds blow away the sand and expose what's beneath. But don't think of this now," she advised. "The most important thing is the child. You don't want him to feed off bitterness and anger. Have Merit send for food and heat you a bath."

I nodded my consent, but how could I stop myself from being angry? I watched Woserit and Paser leave, then listened to them as they whispered in the dark corridors of the palace, their silhouettes bent together like two sycamore trees, and I felt a deep longing to speak with Ramesses. If he had been in Thebes, we would be lying in my bed, talking about the Habiru Ahmoses, and I would have told him the painful story of how my uncle had come upon the idea of a single god. But out there in the darkness to the south, Ramesses was traveling on toward Nubia.

Instead of returning to Merit, I kept walking through the halls. The palace was silent. Every servant who wasn't in the Great Hall with Iset had gone to bed, and I made my way through the corridors to a door that no one ever opened. Once, that door had been guarded by four men in polished breastplates, and my family had used it to reach the royal courtyard. But that courtyard and all of its chambers had burned. I had not seen the charred remains since Merit had taken me as a little girl. There had been nothing to see then except weeds and ashes, but now I wanted to see with a woman's eyes the destruction that Rahotep had brought on my family.

I stepped through the door, and in the moonlight the scene looked like a shipwreck that had been washed onto a black and desolate shore. Charred timbers lay where they had fallen, surrounded by rocks and thickly growing vines. I moved through the courtyard, swatting at an insect that had made the devastation its home. I could see where a bed would have stood once, although all that was left was part of its frame. It might have been the one my mother shared with my father, but of course, there was no way of knowing. Smudged tiles supported its blackened legs, and I used the edge of my sandal to scrap away a few layers of dirt, uncovering more burnt tiles. No one had thought to take them away. The damage was so complete that Horemheb had left the chambers for nature to reclaim.

I picked up one of the broken tiles and smoothed away the ash with my palm. Although Merit would be furious, I used the sleeve of my robe to reveal the image, then held up the tile to the silvery light. It was nothing like what Asha had brought back from Amarna. Just a blue glaze where the fire hadn't melted the paint. But my mother's foot had probably touched it once. I pressed my hand to the cool surface and thought of how much Rahotep had taken from me. And yet the power of rebellion rested in his hands. My heart felt sick knowing I would have to keep his secret from Ramesses. I wanted to tell all of Egypt what the High Priest had done to my
akhu.
I wanted him to suffer the way I had suffered. I wanted him to know loneliness, and fear, and despair. Without Ramesses and Merit, whom did I have in the palace of Malkata? I looked down at my swelling stomach and thought that at least I would always have my children, and I was aware of the irony--that I was standing in a place of ruin and death while inside of me, new life was growing. I wrapped the tile in a fold of my robe, then cast a last glance across the shipwreck that had swallowed my family, pitching me alone into the waves of palace life. Merit would say that they were still watching me; that your
akhu
never leave you except in body. I hoped that this was true. I wanted to imagine my mother looking down at me from the realm of Aaru, the starry sky that separates the land of the living from the land of the dead. And I hoped that in Aaru she was sitting at Ma'at's table, whispering into the goddess's ear all the terrible things that needed to be set right on earth.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

AMUN WAS WATCHING US

IN THE WORST heat of Mesore, a messenger ran ahead of the army and declared that Ramesses had been victorious. "An uprising in Nubia has been averted and the rebels have been crushed!" the herald exclaimed. "The army is already approaching Thebes!"

There was elation in the Audience Chamber, and I shouted over the noise from my throne. "The dead! Where is the list of the dead?"

"There is no list!" The messenger was jubilant. He knew this news would bring him a dozen deben. "Pharaoh Ramesses has been completely triumphant."

I fought my way through the crush of bodies hurrying to leave the Audience Chamber, and Merit found me in the hall. "Hurry, my lady, or we'll be late! There's a ship already waiting."

"But did you hear? Not a single officer killed!"

"And all of it accomplished in only a month! The gods have protected him." She touched the ankh at her neck and murmured a quick prayer of thanks. Then she took my arm and pressed forward. "Move for the princess Nefertari!" she shouted. "Move aside!" Dozens of courtiers stepped back, as we emerged onto the quay, where Iset was already waiting aboard
Amun's Blessing,
shielded from the sun by a canopy of painted linen.

I settled into a shaded chair next to Merit, and when I put my fingers to my lips in excitement, Merit pushed them down.

"You're not a child!"

"But I feel like one." I giggled. "It feels like the first time I saw Ramesses, after being hidden away at the Temple of Hathor."

When the ship reached the eastern bank, armed guards led us down the Avenue of Sphinxes so we could greet Ramesses beneath the freshly raised columns of Luxor. Thousands of Thebans swelled in the streets, so filled with joy that the women even shouted blessings to me. Then they began chanting Ramesses's name and breaking off palm branches to shade him as his army went by. Heat billowed up in a shimmering haze from the sandy streets, and as we passed through the market I could taste the scent of cumin in the air. When we reached the gates of Luxor, I was amazed once more by the towering statues of Ramesses. Woserit took my hand and led me to the steps of the temple, beside Iset in her best sheath and crown. She looked stunningly beautiful, carrying the weight of her coming child in her swelling breasts and rounded hips.
What if Ramesses gives her his sword?
I worried.