The Pharaoh's Daughter (19 page)

The moon cast a beautiful glow on Puah's face through the single window of Mered's home. “What shall we name him?” She twisted the curls on their son's head, still damp with ben-tree oil and pomegranate wine. Shiphrah had rubbed him with salt and massaged him with the Hebrew mixture for newborn anointing.

“Should we wait?” Mered asked, refusing to meet her gaze. “Pharaoh's barque arrives in the morning.”

“No.” Shiphrah stilled her busy hands but didn't look up. “You will not wait to name this child. Some midwives become midwives because we can't bear our own children, but if God gave you this gift, perhaps He'll give me …”

Her words drowned in her emotion, and Mered left his wife's side to comfort their friend. “You and Hur are still young, Shiphrah.”

She swiped at her eyes and elbowed his side, signaling the end of the sentimental moment. “If you say we're young one more time, I'll have Hur put dead snakes in your bed.”

Even the exhausted new mother laughed at the genial threat. Hur had been known to play pranks on unsuspecting friends with the grain-eating rodents and vipers he'd killed at the villa.

Mered returned to Puah's side and stroked her rosy cheeks. “Our son will be called ‘
Jered—descendant.'
As I am descended of Ezrah, and he from the tribe of Judah, so our son is a descendant of Israel.”

Puah nodded and began whispering to their son. “Jered. You are Jered.”

The sound of hurried footsteps stole Mered's attention, and suddenly three Ramessid guards cluttered their tiny room.

Ankhe appeared in their midst. “The amira has begun her travail prematurely. We need the midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, right away.” She stared at Jered, smiling, teeth bared like a crocodile. “You may bring the newborn boy to give the amira hope through her travail.”

One of the guards bristled. “We have orders to kill every male Hebrew infant.”

Ankhe's anger answered quicker than Mered's fear. “Are you going to encourage the amira when she despairs in the final hours of labor, Captain?” She stabbed his chest with her finger. “Will you teach my sister to swaddle and bathe and tend Master Sebak's heir during his first days?”

The captain's face turned to stone, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I thought not,” Ankhe said. “Now escort them to the villa.”

She turned and was gone, leaving the captain angry and impatient. “Get her dressed, and be quick about it,” he growled.

Shiphrah was the first to gather her wits. She grabbed Mered's arm, lifting
him to his feet. They stood between the guards and Puah, offering her a measure of privacy while she pulled her robe over her shoulders and swaddled their newborn son.

“I'm ready,” she said in a whisper, her voice still weak. At least she'd had a few hours' rest from the birthing stool.

Mered cradled her elbow and kept his voice low. “Can you walk, or shall I carry you?”

“I can walk, but you must carry Jered while Shiphrah steadies me.”

Mered reached for Jered, but the captain's cudgel came down on his forearms before he touched the babe, “You weren't summoned—only the midwives and the child.”

Panicked, Mered lunged toward his son. The blow to his jaw sent Mered to the floor before he even saw it coming. Puah stifled a scream, and Shiphrah pulled her and Jered away from the scuffle.

Two guards stood beside the women, short swords drawn, while the captain stood over Mered. “Your son will swim with the crocodiles when the amira is finished with him.”

Mered heard Puah's scream, saw the fist again, felt his jaw pop—and darkness took him.

Ephah peeked out the chamber door's narrow opening. “Ankhe's leading the guards, and they've got the midwives—and a baby.”

Puah's baby must have been a boy!
Anippe could hardly contain her delight. In the midst of their despairing afternoon, Ankhe had suggested using Puah's baby—if it was a boy—as a decoy, pretending for Tut's visit that it was Anippe's newborn. The gods must be smiling on them tonight.

Anippe and Jochebed paced in the sitting area, too nervous to sit, while Miriam played on a cushion with the new spindle and flax fibers Mered had given her. He'd told her to practice spinning, promising someday—if the amira allowed it—she could work in the linen shop. Infuriating man. What if she didn't want Miriam to work in the linen shop? She rather liked the girl and thought she'd make a fine handmaid—not like the one now picking her teeth instead of reporting the guards' progress toward the door.

“Ephah, look again! Are they—” Anippe clamped her lips shut when she heard Ankhe's voice near the threshold.

“You're dismissed. You may return to your posts.”

Anippe heard heavy footsteps retreating, but a man cleared his throat. “You will inform the amira … well, it's my duty … the king must know that these midwives have ignored his command. We Ramessids have been killing the Hebrew brats, not the midwives. And the midwife's newborn—he must be disposed of.”

Puah and Shiphrah slipped in through a narrow opening in the chamber door with a swaddled infant, but Ankhe remained in the corridor with the guard. Ephah left the door open a crack, while Jochebed and Anippe huddled close to hear the conversation better.

“Why does it matter who kills the babies as long as they're dead, Captain Nassor?” Ankhe's voice rose in pitch and volume. “Do you realize the amira could send you—before sunrise—to oversee the copper mines in Sinai?”

A slight pause brought Anippe's heart to her throat.

When the Ramessid captain spoke, his voice was a low growl. “I realize there's a Hebrew boy in the amira's chamber right now, and I will personally throw it in the Nile before Pharaoh's barque arrives.”

Ankhe matched his threat. “I will do it myself, Captain. You are dismissed.” She hurried through the door and locked it, breathing hard. She waved the crowd of women away. “Stand back. I can't breathe. Why are no lamps burning?”

Ephah hurried to trim the wicks and light a few more lamps. They'd purposely kept the chamber darkened, in case the guards followed the midwives into the sitting area—so they wouldn't see Anippe's slim form.

As the lights illumined faces, Shiphrah stood open-mouthed and gawking. “Amira, you're not pregnant.” Her genuine shock proved Puah's ability to keep a secret.

“No, Shiphrah, I'm not.” Casting an appreciative glance at Puah, Anippe noted her gray pallor. “Ankhe get a chair. Hurry!”

Ankhe fetched the chair from the courtyard, and Jochebed and Shiphrah eased the new mother into the chair.

As if seeing Jochebed for the first time, Shiphrah hugged her. “I've missed you in the village, my friend.”

Decidedly uncomfortable, Jochebed glanced at Anippe before answering. “The amira allowed me to live in the villa with Miriam when she was taken into house service.”

Miriam dropped her spindle and whorl, skipping over to join the conversation. “Mother gets to take care of—”

Jochebed clapped her hand over the girl's mouth, creating an awkward silence.

Anippe studied Shiphrah and made a pivotal decision. “I found a Hebrew boy floating in a basket on the Nile. Miriam followed him to my bathhouse, and Jochebed is his wet nurse.”

Again, the midwife looked utterly bewildered. “How did a baby float in a basket without getting eaten by croc—”

“It was my baby,” Jochebed said, “and I coated the basket with pitch.”

Shiphrah gulped in the awkward silence and then turned disbelieving eyes on Anippe. “And you've allowed Jochebed to nurse her own son?”

Anippe squared her shoulders, refusing to let her trepidation show. “Of course. He's my son, not Jochebed's.” But the niggling fear remained. Would Anippe have to kill her first slave to redeem her first son?

“Does it matter right now whose son he is?” Ankhe said, silencing her sister with a glare. “King Tut and his queen arrive tomorrow and will be told of your premature labor. They won't want to see you until after the birth because of Senpa's unpleasant memories.”

Anippe noticed both midwives drop their heads, shoulders sagging, and she realized they still felt the burden of Senpa's miscarriages. She leaned forward, drawing their attention. “I witnessed only the queen's last delivery, but I assure you—as I assured my brother—you both did everything possible to save that baby. The gods are to blame. Not you.”

Both women wiped their cheeks, but only Shiphrah met Anippe's gaze. “Thank you, Amira. It's not in a midwife's nature to let a baby die—or to kill one.”

“I cannot change the will of a god, Shiphrah, and the son of Horus has ordered you to kill all newborn Hebrew boys.” Anippe let silence emphasize her authority—lest they mistake kindness for weakness. “As Avaris's amira, even I live—or die—by Pharaoh's commands. When the Ramessid captain officially informed Ankhe of your disobedience, he put me in a corner. I can no longer say
I didn't know the midwives weren't killing the newborn boys.
”

Puah began to tremble and moan, clutching her son close and rocking.
Anippe bent before her and grabbed her arms. “Stop, Puah. Your son is safe. I need him to pose as my newborn, and you will pretend to be his wet nurse—but only during the king's visit.”

The new mother continued her trembling, but the moaning ceased, and her eyes focused on a distant place. Did she hear or understand, or was she too exhausted and distraught to comprehend?

“Puah, look at me.” Anippe shook her. “Look at me!” The weary woman raised her gaze to meet the amira's. “You will live in Jochebed's chamber with your son during the king's visit.”

Ephah mumbled under her breath about tight quarters with Jochebed's brats and now more people in their chamber.

Anippe glared at Ankhe. “The handmaid you chose for me will move into your chamber, sister. I no longer require her service.”

Ankhe's eyes narrowed. “I have no use for her either.”

“Then send her back to the slave quarters. Do what you like with her. I don't care.” Anippe returned her attention to Puah, softening her expression and voice. “I'll send a messenger to assure Mered you're all right but will make no mention of your son.”

“But, please, Amira, he'll worry—”

“I'm sorry, Puah. Your son's life is a gift for your faithful service, but we can't tell anyone our plan to protect him—especially Mered. Not until Tut leaves. You yourself said he cannot abide deception, so I assume he would not keep our secret. When the king's barque sails away, you may return home with your son, and I'll make sure the Ramessid guards leave you in peace. Do you understand?”

With a sigh, Puah nodded and stared down at her newborn without a word.

Anippe's heart twisted, aching to hold her own son, both dreading and yearning for the morning sun. Dawn would bring Pharaoh's ship, royal attendants, and a house full of activity—but it would also bring the familiar coos of Moses's sweet voice.

“Jochebed, get Puah settled in your chamber.” Anippe lifted the assistant midwife's arm, helping her stand. “Shiphrah, you must tutor me through an
imaginary birth. I need to sound like Senpa sounded, labor the same amount of time, but end up with a healthy son. Then you will return home, spreading news of Master Sebak's heir.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” Ankhe stood in the shadows, arms crossed over her chest.

“I don't care what you do, Ankhe, but take Ephah and her son with you.”

Mered stood along the crowded path near Avaris quay, watching the king's retinue march up the hill toward the villa. His jaw throbbed, and his heart pounded, though his eyelids were heavy. After the guard's last punch, Mered had awakened to a dimly lit chamber, with Amram's kind face hovering over him. His neighbor had heard the ruckus and waited behind the dividing curtain until the guards left before coming to apply cool water and prayers to Mered's swollen face.