The Pharaoh's Daughter (10 page)

Frantic knocking at the door awoke Anippe. Before consciousness fully dawned, a rough hand slammed over her mouth, pinning her to the bed.

Sebak hovered over her and slipped the hilt of a dagger into her hand. “Stay in bed and be silent until I find out who's at our door. My Ramessids and Hebrews would never disturb my wedding night.” His voice was a whispered growl, sending a chill up her spine.

Anippe had never held a dagger, but her husband seemed to think a dagger should accompany his simple question at the door.

“Who's there?” In the waning moonlight, he donned his robe and drew another short sword from a belt hanging by the door.

“I need to speak to my sister.” Ankhe's strangled whisper beckoned Anippe, but Sebak's glare stifled Anippe.

“My wife is not to be disturbed in our chamber, and you will answer to me in the morning.” Sebak jabbed the short sword at the door, and it stuck there, rocking in the wake of his fury. Was this the Seth reborn that Abbi Horem described? Silence lingered, and Anippe's breaths came in short quick bursts.

“Senpa is losing her baby.” Ankhe's voice was flat. “We should send for the midwives.”

Sebak's shoulders slumped. He yanked the door open and pulled Ankhe inside. “Who else knows?”

Anippe dropped her dagger and ran to embrace Ankhe, who explained through tears. “Senpa told Amenia she wasn't feeling well during the feast, but she started cramping after she and Tut were alone in their chamber. Tut summoned Amenia to attend her until the midwives arrive, and then he told me to go and get them.” She released her sister and turned to her new master. “Please, Sebak. I don't know how to find the midwives.”

“You will address me as Master Sebak, and you have lost valuable time coming to our chamber to find midwives. Why not ask a Hebrew serving maid in your sleeping chamber or any of the Ramessid guards along the way?” He stepped forward, backing Ankhe toward the door. “You are a servant, Ankhe-Senpaaten-tasherit. You will do as you're told, or you'll feel the foreman's strap.” He stormed out of the chamber, slamming the door behind him.

Ankhe turned misty eyes toward her sister. “None of the Hebrews will speak to me because I'm your sister, and I'm afraid of the guards.” Anippe tried to embrace her again, but Ankhe shoved her away. “I don't want your pity.” A single tear leapt over Ankhe's bottom lash, her chin lifted in defiance.

Anippe's frustration soared. What did Ankhe want from her?

She grabbed her little sister's hand and started toward the door. “Come. We'll find a housemaid to summon the midwives. You and I will help Amenia make Senpa comfortable until they arrive.”

“No!” Ankhe ripped her hand away. “I can't go near Senpa.”

“What? Why not?”

“I'm Ankhe-Senpaaten-
tasherit
—the decoy for Senpa. If Anubis comes to claim Senpa for the underworld during her miscarriage, that jackal-faced god might take me instead.”

Anippe wiped weary hands down her face. “Ankhe, I understand your fear, but think about our sister. Senpa is alone in this strange place, and she needs us.” She reached for Ankhe's hand, pleading.

“Think about me. No one ever thinks about me.” Pulling away, Ankhe reached for the door latch. “If these chamber guards will order a house slave to take me to the midwives, then you and Amenia can help Senpa.” Without
waiting for Anippe's approval, Ankhe flung open the door. “Your amira has instructions for you.”

The four large Ramessids standing outside the suite of chambers mirrored Anippe's surprise. Gathering her courage, the new amira tried to sound imposing. “Find a Hebrew that can lead my sister to the midwives.”

“As you wish, Amira.” One of the guards turned without further prompting, and Ankhe hurried from the chamber to follow.

Anippe realized she had no idea where to send messages of Senpa's condition. “Ankhe, where is King Tut?”

On her way down the long hallway, Ankhe shouted over her shoulder. “Ay and Horemheb are consoling him in the main hall. Tut blames himself for Senpa's miscarriage, making her sail on that wretched barque during unlucky days this month.”

Anippe noted the chamber guards' raised eyebrows and cringed at her sister's indiscretion. Not only had Ankhe used familiar names for all of Egypt's top leaders, but by dawn the whole villa would lay blame for Senpa's miscarriage at Tut's feet. Would Ankhe ever learn to hold her tongue?

Avaris's new amira stood at her chamber door, feeling almost as ridiculous as her tactless sister. She had no idea where guests slept at Avaris. Where was Senpa's chamber?

“May I escort you to the queen's chamber?” The chamber guard beside her door nodded slightly, respectful and kind. “This way, Amira.”

He extended his hand toward a side hallway leading to a pillared portico that appeared to connect more rooms on another wing. She'd barely walked ten steps when she heard Senpa's heart-rending cries.

“I can find the chamber from here. Thank you.”

“As you wish, Amira.” He bowed and turned to go.

“Wait, what's your name, Ramessid?”

“I am Nassor, Amira.”

“Thank you, Nassor. I will mention your kindness to Master Sebak.”

He offered his thanks with another nod and a slight smile before turning to go. Anippe followed the groans to the last chamber on her left. She pushed open the door and found Amenia leaning over Senpa's coiled form.

“You must try to relax, dear one. Your baby wants to enter this world before crossing over to the next, and we must help it make the transition.” Amenia dabbed Senpa's sweaty brow with a wet cloth.

“May I help?” Anippe took the cloth, and Senpa immediately clutched Anippe's hand to her cheek.

“Thank you for being here.” Before Senpa's words ended, another pain seized her, drawing her knees to her chest.

Amenia placed a cloth between Senpa's teeth and coaxed her to bite down when the pain grew unbearable. “Better the cloth than your bottom lip.” She smoothed the expectant mother's fine hair, made sparse from years of royal wigs. At twenty-seven, Senpa was still young enough to bear children but considerably older than Tut's fifteen years. If she didn't produce an heir soon, the king would likely take another wife.

The cycles of Senpa's pain seemed endless. Anippe dabbed her brow with each new wave, and Amenia chanted the sacred songs of Amun through the relentless struggle.

Finally a soft knock, and two women entered, both dressed in sand-colored, rough-spun linen. One carried baskets filled with clay jars and bundles of herbs, while the other carried a birthing stool.

“Good evening, my queen,” said the older of the two. Her tone and manner were fluid and gentle, like the Nile during
Peret
—when the water returned to its banks and sowing began. “I'm Shiphrah, and this is Puah, my assistant. We've come to ease your pain and deliver your baby.”

Ummi Amenia helped Senpa to the birthing stool, giving the midwife room to examine her patient. When another pain gripped the queen, Shiphrah grimaced and then whispered instructions to her assistant.

Puah was younger, beautiful, and capable. Her hands worked feverishly, pouring a drop of this, adding a sprinkle of that, crushing leaves of something else. Without a word, she handed the potion to Shiphrah, who lifted Senpa's head and helped her drink.

“I'm sorry we meet again under these circumstances, my queen. This is the same blend as last time. Your cramping will increase for a time to ensure a complete
delivery and help prevent infection.” She cradled Senpa's shoulders even after she'd finished drinking, her affection for the queen seeming genuine.

“I understand … I remember.” Senpa buried her face in the woman's chest.

Anippe covered a sob, aching for her sister's loss. How could she bear losing two babies?

When the contractions increased, Anippe huddled in the corner and watched in horror as her sister's body expelled the living treasure the king and queen yearned for most. With a final push, Senpa's body went limp, and the room grew deathly still.

“Senpa?” Ummi Amenia, seated behind her on the stool, shook her shoulders.

No response.

Anippe whimpered, unable to stifle her panic. “Not Senpa! Not Senpa too.”

“Lay her on the mat. Over here. Puah, grind more giant fennel—now.” Amenia and Puah jumped to obey Shiphrah's commands. “Amira Anippe, please help get her on the mat.”

Shaken by her new title, Anippe lunged to help Amenia drag Senpa's body to the reed mat, while Puah ground the fennel into powder and mixed it with sweet wine.

“Here,” Puah said, handing the cup to Shiphrah.

The chief midwife cradled the queen's shoulders again, lifting the potion to her lips. “Queen Senpa, you must wake up and drink this wonderful wine. Come, now. Come on.”

Senpa sputtered and then gulped, dribbling the wine concoction down her chin, while the other women cried with relief.

Anippe returned to her place in the corner, watching the others tend to Senpa. Childbirth, the cruelest deception of the gods. The priests had said it was a beautiful offering to the goddess Tawaret, but it was vile and bloody and torturous, and Anippe would never bear a child—if she could avoid it. Her wedding night with Sebak had been near rapture, but if it led to this, she'd shave her body and serve in the temple of Amun. Could she serve as priestess
though she'd been spoiled by a husband? Priests would allow anything if offered enough gold.

“Amira? Amira?” Puah's voice shook Anippe from her reverie. “You should tell the king.”

Anippe stood, realizing that Shiphrah and Amenia were frantically working over Senpa again. She looked ashen, eyes closed, body still. A pool of blood lay around her.

“Is she dead?”

“No, but …” Puah bowed her head.

“But?”

Seeming reluctant to speak, the assistant midwife fixed her eyes on her dusty sandals. “The next few hours will determine her fate. We will pray.”

Pray? Why pray?
If Tut was a god, why couldn't he save his babies? “You can pray all you want. I'll report my sister's condition to Pharaoh.”

Anippe fairly ran from the room, driven out by undying images of dying women. Senpa lying so still. Ummi Kiya's empty eyes staring at a distant corner. Why were the realities of childbirth the expectation of her gender?

Through the columned portico she ran and then down the long hallway. The morning sun streamed through the windows as she hurried toward the main hall. Would the men still be there, or had they moved on with their day? Hunting, perhaps? Sword drills or archery practice—while the women faced life and death and surrendered lost dreams?

She entered the main hall doorway and saw her brother. Slumped over the low-lying table, King Tut's face was buried in his hands. No wig or
wereret
—the crown of Egypt's Two Lands. Vizier Ay leaned over him, whispering. Both men looked up at the sound of her frantic breathing.

“What news?” her brother asked. Hope in the face of hopelessness.

She swallowed hard and walked the longest fifteen steps of her life. Kneeling on a cushion opposite him, she grasped his hands. “Your baby girl was too young to survive and was taken by Anubis before her first breath. Senpa lost a lot of blood. The midwives say we can only wait and … pray.”

The outcry she expected never came. Perhaps her brother had truly become divine. Instead, he spoke with utter calm. “Vizier Ay, your reasoning
rings true—even if General Horemheb disagrees. The Hebrews have become too numerous and have skewed ma'at in the Delta. The gods deny me children—specifically male children—so I deny the Hebrews any male infants until Queen Senpa produces my heir.”

Anippe shuddered and released her brother's hands. “What are you saying?”

“All Hebrew newborn boys will die.” His eyes stared through her to a place she could not see. Surely, he was a god—no human could care so little about other lives.

Anippe cast an accusing glare at Vizier Ay, realizing this must be another of his schemes. This edict would eventually diminish Delta slaves, but more importantly, it would stir Hebrew unrest and demand increased military patrols, leaving fewer Ramessids to fight Hittites—and monitor Ay's activity in the south.

“Summon the midwives, Anippe.” Tut's eyes pierced her soul. “They will be the instrument that restores health to my wife's womb, harmony in Egypt, and ma'at in King Tut.”

Mered watched silently as his master groomed his seventh horse that morning. The stable boy stood at strict attention, currycomb at the ready, but Sebak needed the therapy of horseflesh beneath his hands. After the young master lost his parents, Mered often found him in the stables at dawn, his cheek pressed against a stallion's side, his gentle whisper soothing both man and beast—as Mered had found him this morning.