The Twelfth Transforming (44 page)

“I cannot imagine why you bothered to do such a thing unless you still have yearnings for your son’s body and want to control the parade of women to his bed. I think it is a tasteless obsession in a woman of your age, Majesty. You cannot possibly compete any longer.”

Tiye smiled into the sulky face. “I have absolutely no desire to try to claim my physical rights as a wife,” she said adamantly. “If you cannot imagine why I have decided so soon to take an interest in the affairs of the harem, you are more stupid than I thought. Meketaten worries me.”

Nefertiti’s eyes slid away from her own. “There is nothing wrong with Meketaten. A touch of fever this summer, that is all.”

Tiye wanted to shake her. “I see that I must speak as clearly as though you were in your infancy. Did you not object when Pharaoh put his daughter in the harem?”

“No. Why should I have? It is his prerogative.”

“But Meketaten is still a child, as slim and gangling as a little boy.”

“No. She became a woman six months ago. Pharaoh ordered that she was to keep the youth lock. He likes it.”

The implications of Nefertiti’s artless words chilled Tiye. “She is your daughter, and my blood! Has it not occurred to you that if she becomes pregnant, she may die? Look at her, Nefertiti! How could such an unformed little body carry a child?”

Nefertiti began to pick at the swathes of linen on her hands. “She is pregnant already.”

Now Tiye made no effort to control herself. The blow caught Nefertiti on the temple, and she muffled a scream. Tiye rubbed her knuckles and placed a hand over her pounding heart while Nefertiti moaned and rocked. “Be quiet!” Tiye hissed. “I did not strike you hard. It appears that Kia is a better friend to your daughter than you. She at least is endeavoring to comfort the girl.”

Nefertiti sat motionless, and then her head fell back onto the pillow. “Meketaten understands that it is the seed of the Aten,” she snapped. “The god must bind those of his blood ever closer to himself. It is his duty.”

“You do not believe that any more than I! It is the duty of a Divine Horus to father an incarnation, but not like this. Why did he not choose Meritaten?”

Nefertiti’s glance was wary. “Truly, my aunt, I do not know. But you do not yet understand the consequences of arguing with your son. He cries, the demons attack his head, I can do nothing.”

“You are the most beautiful woman Egypt has ever seen,” Tiye said sadly. “But you have the heart of a viper.”

“No,” Nefertiti flashed back. “A cobra. A royal cobra, Majesty Aunt. All Egypt worships me. Do not stand in my way.”

A pall of fatigue began to settle over Tiye. “You would be wise to decide now not to confront me directly in the future, Nefertiti. For all your clawing and spitting, I am more ruthless than you. I cannot be disposed of as easily as Sitamun. I came to you today to try and persuade you to help me convince Pharaoh of the immediate necessity of mounting a campaign against Syria. But now I do not persuade, I demand. Drop your own words into his ears, or you may live to see Egypt on her knees.”

“Ridiculous.” Nefertiti’s eyes gleamed in the darkness. “No nation dares to challenge us.”

“It is you who dares not challenge Pharaoh with the truth. Not his truth, but the hard glare of reality. You prefer his favor, his rich gifts. But those things will cease, and sooner than you think, if tribute and foreign loyalties continue to decline.”

“You have forgotten one thing,” Nefertiti said in a low, menacing voice. “Akhenaten adores me. If I choose to remain silent, you are impotent.”

“Oh, I think you will do as I say. Otherwise a certain sculptor will have his beautiful throat cut.”

Tiye saw, with satisfaction, the color fade from Nefertiti’s fine-grained skin. It had been a chance shot, an impulsive arrow fired by the sudden memory of Horemheb’s brief comment, and Tiye herself was surprised when it met its mark. “Does Pharaoh know in which direction the yearning of his perfect wife lies? Obviously not. I need not kill him, of course. It would be enough to start spreading some lively gossip. But I would prefer to murder him, dear niece, and murder I will unless you drag yourself out of your preoccupation with your own comfort.”

“You demon,” Nefertiti whispered. The linen wraps lay shredded on the sheet, and her oil-slick hands were shaking with rage. “You ugly, aging bitch. Sebek take you!”

Tiye rose. “You do not trust the Aten to exact a vengeance on me? How disappointed Pharaoh would be to hear of your lack of faith. Think about it, Nefertiti, when you are calmer. Enjoy what is left of your rest.” She bowed and called sharply, and servants swung the door wide.

The lines are drawn, and more quickly than I really wanted
, she thought as she strode away.
I hope Nefertiti is too simple to realize that she can keep the upper hand by inventing the right lies. Now I must visit Tutu. Threatening my niece and bullying a sniveling minister is a far cry from the diplomacy I delighted in and you watched with such pleasure, Amunhotep my husband. It is like the careless butchering of oxen, and I despise the necessity. How feeble the times have become!

The Office of Foreign Correspondence at Akhetaten was situated at the end of the road that ran between the Great Temple and a smaller one, close by the maze of walled courts that sheltered the estates of the ministers who were not entitled to riverfront properties. As she was carried in her closed litter along the dusty street, her nostrils, even behind the thick curtains, continued to be assailed by the odor of incense that hung in the air, mingled with the stench of offal and other rubbish that was flung over the walls into the street. Stately chants and the tinkle of shaken systra wafted from the temple’s precincts, ethereal and beautiful over the hoarse shouts of hawkers and the babble of the shrill, coarse laughter of the fellahin women passing the time of day. The tap of a drum told her that she was passing dancers. She opened the curtains slightly, expecting to see naked whores displaying their wares, but the women were temple dancers, lithe and unblemished, hung with flowers, their arms and faces raised solemnly to the sun as they moved.
Akhetaten is certainly no Thebes
, she reflected, letting the curtain drop.
And how typical of my son to design and build an Office of Foreign Correspondence so annoyingly far from the palace
.

Inside, the office was noisy with street sounds, even though it was protected from the populace by a gated wall and high slit windows and surrounded by shrubs. Bins and chests overflowed with scrolls. Scribes’ palettes lay on every surface. A group of men stood arguing in one corner, and Tiye finally saw Tutu himself leaning over a scribe’s shoulder, dictating. Tiye waited beside the silent men who held the canopy over her head while her herald went within, calling her titles, and by the time she herself stepped over the threshold, all were prone on their faces. Tiye let her gaze deliberately scan the untidy room, giving the prostrate men time to fully appreciate her presence, and then commanded, “Kneel, Tutu!”

The young man pulled himself onto his knees, head bowed. “I am Your Majesty’s slave,” he mumbled uneasily. Tiye moved until her feet with their blood-red nails, the gilt straps of her sandals, and the hem of her jeweled gown were within his vision.

“Tell me,” she went on smoothly, “how many times have you been made a Person of Gold?”

Tutu’s head jerked, puzzled. “Four times, Divine Goddess.”

“Then you have received more than your share, for certainly you do not need Pharaoh’s gold.” She laid a light emphasis on “Pharaoh” and watched carefully for a flinch. “How much do the foreign ambassadors pay you to keep the truth of their depredations from coming to Pharaoh’s ears? Does Aziru pay you in slaves or silver? And Suppiluliumas must pour gold into your hands like water in exchange for the quiet destruction of dispatches from his enemies. I am surprised that you are not living by the river, but I suppose it would not do to flaunt your wealth. Is your tomb a rich one, Tutu? Answer me!” Quick as light her foot flashed into Tutu’s throat.

“Majesty, I am as filth beneath your feet!” he croaked, swallowing convulsively. “I grovel! I am as dung!”

“That is no answer. Stand up!” Tiye looked around the office and felt as if she might laugh. It was not Tutu’s downcast face or the frozen bodies among which he stood or Huya’s quickly hidden smile. It was perhaps the ludicrousness of her having to resort to such childish games. “You may look at me.”

Reluctantly he raised his eyes to meet hers, and she tried to read them. Tutu looked hurt, bewildered, and embarrassed, but not guilty.

“Now answer.”

Tutu lifted both shoulders in a gesture of wounded innocence. “I worship my pharaoh. Never would I betray him. I read him the dispatches when he visits this office.”

“You do not urge them upon him if they are serious? You read them to him without advice, without interpretation or admonition? What kind of a minister are you?”

“Goddess, I am a simple man—”

“Damn your simplicity! Someone should choke you with your gold!” She wanted to demand his immediate dismissal or at least insist that he bring all correspondence to her in the future, but both orders would have to come from Akhenaten. Despairingly she wondered what had happened to the clandestine correspondence from the spies scattered throughout the empire that his predecessor had controlled, and decided that it had probably ceased. Turning, she stepped out into the sunlight, breathing deeply and reaching for Huya’s arm. “Help me onto the litter,” she commanded. “I intended to speak with Horemheb tonight, but I am too tired. Have them take me to my own house, Huya, and send to Horemheb tomorrow.”

She lay on the litter doubled over the dragging pain in her abdomen, fighting a sense of loneliness intensified, she knew, by sheer weariness. That night she ate alone, refusing entrance to Ay, who came to enquire after her, and had her lamps extinguished early. Huya was absent on business in the harem.
And that is something else I must do
, she thought as she drifted toward sleep.
I must speak to Tadukhipa. I should have brought her aunt from Malkatta for her. I must visit Meketaten. I have not asked after Ankhesenpaaten, either, or spoken to Meritaten, and I am simply putting off an audience alone with Akhenaten. So much to do, to try and understand before I can begin to salvage anything
.

The evening of the following day she met with her brother and Horemheb in her garden, far from the prying ears of servants. Mutnodjme had accompanied her husband and lay on her back in the grass, graceful limbs splayed and eyes half-closed, while the others talked. Tiye knew that the young woman could be trusted, and indeed, Mutnodjme’s silent presence was somehow comforting.
I disliked my own daughter and cannot bear my other niece
, Tiye thought, glancing at Mutnodjme’s dusk-shrouded form,
but this young woman has my complete affection
. Horemheb was speaking softly, leaning forward on his chair, elbows on his brown knees.

“I am convinced that Pharaoh will not listen to any of us. He believes that his reign as the Aten on earth began a return to true Ma’at, not only in Egypt but in the entire world. The turbulence outside our borders he interprets as simply the struggle of others less enlightened against this knowledge. As such, he insists it will gradually die away as the Aten asserts its omnipotence. He need do nothing. The Aten will triumph as its light spreads out from Akhetaten to embrace and enlighten all men.”

“I think that my daughter likes to believe it, too,” Ay put in. “She is foolhardy and vindictive, but she recognizes power when she sees it, and the concept of world power embodied in the Aten has made her drunk. You tell us, Majesty, that you have threatened her with the death of Thothmes the sculptor, but Nefertiti will sacrifice him without a qualm to keep her hold on your son.”

“In that case, let us not wait. There is no need at present to deprive the young man of life, but it would be advantageous to tell Pharaoh of his wife’s flirtation. If Nefertiti cannot be persuaded to join her voice to ours, then the sooner a wedge is driven between her and Pharaoh the better.” Tiye spoke calmly, but her heart contracted with compassion for Akhenaten. She could not deny his ineptitude as a leader, his failure to maintain the distance and dignity vital in a pharaoh, but the thought of depriving him of his trust in Nefertiti was a bitter one. In his simplicity he had bought the affection of his ministers, and even Horemheb, whom he had first befriended, had been unable to give him the blind loyalty he had wanted.
And you, Ay
, Tiye mused, looking across at her brother.
Though I love you, I think I would no longer place my life in your hands. You betrayed me when you left Malkatta, and now you consider betraying your pharaoh. In your eyes Akhenaten is nothing but a gaming piece and Egypt the board. You will sit between Akhenaten and myself, committing yourself fully to neither until you see which way the balance shifts
.

“I think such a course may be dangerous,” Ay objected. “If Pharaoh’s trust in Nefertiti is shattered, it will drive him even more deeply into the arms of the Aten for reassurance. The Aten has prohibited violence against any man. Aziru grasped that fact as soon as he arrived. In spite of my attempts to discredit him, he has been fawning on Akhenaten and protesting his innocence in the face of the evidence from the few loyal governors Egypt has left abroad.”

“What I suggest is not such a dangerous course as you believe. I will put myself in Nefertiti’s place. Surely a son will turn to his mother after such a crushing disappointment.”

“Or a husband to his wife?” Ay said wryly. “Only as a mother can you now hope to sway him.”

“I have no intention of entering into a sexual relationship with him again,” Tiye said tiredly. “I bitterly regret my weakness in allowing him to share my bed at all.”

“I think it would be better to put aside all such machinations and simply take Egypt out of his hands.” The voice was Horemheb’s. He was sitting back now, his expression unreadable in the darkening garden, his legs crossed, his hands curled around the arms of the chair. Tiye sensed rather than saw his tension. She and Ay turned to him in the pregnant silence that followed, and finally Tiye said quietly, “Go on, Commander.”