“None of us can predict when Anubis will come. Not even for Iset. But if she lives,” Woserit added firmly, “don’t expect Ramesses to see you at night the way he has these past months. He will follow tradition and spend ten days with her.”
“With a crying infant?”
“Of course not,” Merit said. “The baby will sleep with its nurse.”
I returned to my chamber to put on my best sheath and most elaborate wig. But as Merit began to paint my eyes, bells rang in the courtyards of Malkata.
“Three times if it’s a son,” Merit whispered.
We held our breath and waited. The bells pealed three times, then there was a pause while the priestesses waited, and rang their bells three times again. I jumped from my stool and ran.
“Your cloak!” Merit cried after me. “It’s cold!”
But I couldn’t feel the early morning mist. How would fatherhood change Ramesses? Would he come to me less and stay in Iset’s chamber more? I rushed through the polished halls toward the very birthing pavilion that had been built by my grandfather. But I stopped when I saw the crowd of courtiers huddled outside the heavy wooden doors. No one was to be allowed within.
Henuttawy saw me and smiled. “Princess Nefertari.” She took in the careful beading of my sheath with a quick, calculating glance. “My sister polished you into a little queen and thought to place you next to the king as Chief Wife. But that is not going to happen now.”
I met her gaze. “How would you know? No one truly believes that you’re the mouth of Isis.”
She tensed, then saw Woserit coming toward us and whispered triumphantly, “I know because Iset has just given Ramesses a son. A healthy prince of Egypt. Ramesses would be a fool not to make her queen now.”
“Ah, Henuttawy!” Woserit said. “You must be happy to hear that Iset has given Ramesses a boy. After all, this child might have been the son of Ashai if not for you.”
Henuttawy’s red lips formed a dark, thin line, and I realized why Woserit had not mentioned the name of Ashai since Iset had first spoken it in anger. She had been waiting, gathering information. Now she turned to me, and her eyes were very bright.
“You see, Nefertari, before she married Ramesses, Iset was in love with a young Habiru named Ashai. Unfortunately, he was only an artist, and when Iset’s grandmother discovered them together in her chamber, she threatened to disinherit her. But Iset didn’t care. She was in love, and when my sweet sister heard of this, she saw an opportunity: a beautiful harem daughter the same age as Ramesses who had entered into a secret romance. So easy to manipulate! Knowing my sister, she probably sent someone else to scare off Ashai.”
Henuttawy swore angrily, “Still shaming Hathor with your lies!”
“Maybe it was a servant, or perhaps someone more powerful, like the High Priest of Amun. Imagine,” Woserit continued in her most conspiratorial voice. “You’re a young Habiru artist and the High Priest arrives in his leopard robes and tells you that the woman you love is destined for the prince. Any man would have enough sense to leave her alone. So Ashai left Iset for a Habiru girl, and the path was clear to push Iset toward the dais. All my sister would ask for in exchange would be patronage for her temple. Of course, Iset still believes that Ashai simply lost interest in her. Imagine how she would feel if she knew what my sister had done!”
I didn’t know where Woserit had come by her information, but she had placed it like an offering at my feet.
“Nefertari would be a fool to open her mouth. If she ever speaks such nonsense to Ramesses,” Henuttawy threatened, “I would turn every priest in Thebes against her.”
Woserit shrugged. “They’re already against her. You don’t think we know that if you had the opportunity to ruin Nefertari, you would have already done so?”
The door to the birthing pavilion swung open. A delighted Ramesses emerged, and I felt a sharp stab of disappointment knowing that Iset had been the one to make him so happy. He saw me, and Woserit whispered, “Put a smile on your face.”
“Nefertari!” Ramesses shouted from across the courtyard, and I wondered selfishly if Iset could hear him calling my name from inside the pavilion. He was striding toward us, brushing past the courtiers’ bows. “Did you hear?” he asked joyously.
“Yes.” I smiled, though I’m sure it looked more like the grimace of Bes. “A son.”
“And Iset is healthy! She’s already asked for a harp to be moved into the pavilion. Have you ever heard of such a swift recovery?”
“No.” I swallowed my pain and added, “The gods must be watching over Malkata.”
This was what Ramesses wanted to hear. A breath of wind brushed the blue and gold flaps of his nemes crown behind his shoulders, and even in the gray of morning he appeared radiant. I had never seen him so proud, and again wished I had been the one to cause it.
“A feast must be prepared,” he said. “Tell the viziers that all of Thebes should celebrate. Every worker will have the day off.”
THE REED mats were lowered in Paser’s chamber, while outside the priestesses continued to toll their bells.
“What have they named him?” Woserit asked grimly.
“Akori,” Paser replied. “But just because it’s a son doesn’t mean he’ll be made heir to the throne. He’s simply a prince.”
“The eldest prince,” I reminded, “and if Ramesses doesn’t choose—”
“And he’s never mentioned making you Chief Wife?”
I shook my head sadly at Paser’s question. “No.”
“Not even at night when he goes to your chamber?” Woserit pressed.
“Never.”
“So what is he waiting for?” she demanded.
“Maybe he’s waiting to see if Nefertari can give him an heir.”
We all looked down at my belly, and although my nipples had recently darkened and Merit thought that it might be a sign of a child, I looked the same as I had the month before. Then a heavy knock resounded through Paser’s chamber, and my heart pounded in my chest.
“My nurse,” I whispered. “She promised she’d come with any news.” I rushed from my stool, and outside, Merit was wringing her hands.
“Something’s happening in the birthing pavilion.”
Woserit rose quickly. “How do you know?”
“Three physicians entered and haven’t come out. Do you want me to go and deliver the princess fresh linens?”
“You mean spy?” I exclaimed.
“Of course, my lady! We don’t know what’s going on in there. What if she tempts him to make her Chief Wife?”
Then we’ll want to be the first to know, I thought, but stopped myself. “But if it’s not in Ramesses’s heart to make me queen—”
“Forget such foolishness!” Woserit said. “We all know it’s in his heart. But Iset will try to tempt his reason. The entire court will be there telling him that he is eighteen and that a Chief Wife must be chosen. Go,” she said eagerly. “Go and find out what’s happening.” Woserit turned to me. “You should be in your own chamber. In case Ramesses comes looking for you. If there is something wrong with Iset, you want it to be your shoulder that he weeps on.”
I sat in my chamber and waited for news from the birthing pavilion. When the afternoon passed and there was still no word from anyone, I motioned to a passing servant in the hall. Tefer arched his body against my leg, curious to know what was happening as well.
“Do you know what’s happening in the birthing pavilion?”
The young girl lowered her reed basket to make the proper obeisance to me, but I waved it away. “Just tell me what you know.”
“The princess Iset has just had a son!”
“I know that! But why have the bells stopped ringing?”
She looked at me with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “Perhaps because the priestesses grew tired?”
I sighed in frustration, then made my way out toward the Great Hall, where the court was already celebrating. In a corner with the High Priest of Amun, Henut
tawy was laughing. The clink of her bangles, the way she placed her delicate hand on his knee—it was like seeing a swan trying to mate with a hyena. But there was no sign of Woserit or Paser, and Merit was not there either. Platters of duck in roasted onion had been served, and barrels of the kitchen’s best wine had been opened. But the servants were watching one another nervously. I approached the cook, who saw me coming and desperately tried to make himself busy. But I caught his eye before he could take a handful of empty bowls from the table.
“What’s the matter?” I asked him. “Why isn’t anyone preparing for tonight?”
Nervous sweat appeared at the top of his heavy brow. “There are great preparations happening, my lady. There is meat and wine—”
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I told him. “What have you heard?”
The cook cleared his throat and placed the bowls back on the table. He exchanged a glance with his two assistants, who quickly disappeared. Lowering his voice, for fear the gossip might reach Henuttawy’s ears, he continued. “The prince, my lady. There is talk among the servants that the Birth Feast might not take place tonight.”
I stepped forward. “Why?”
“Because the young prince is not as well as they thought. There is news he might—” He wouldn’t go on, for fear of calling Anubis to a place where new life had just entered.
“Thank you,” I told him and went back to my chamber to wait. I kneeled on my reed mat, then lit a cone of incense beneath Mut’s feet. I imagined the pain of having my own child taken from me and pleaded for the ka of the little boy who might never feel his father’s embrace. “He’s too young,” I beseeched Tawaret. “And Ramesses has just become a father. I know you have never heard Akori’s name, but he is my husband’s child and hasn’t lived long enough to offend anyone in this life.”
The door to my chamber opened, and Merit came in, followed by Woserit.
“I heard,” I said solemnly, and stood. “A cook in the Great Hall told me.”
Woserit sniffed the air and regarded me with a strange expression. “And you were praying for the princess’s son?” Woserit shook her head. “Then you can save your incense,” she said plainly. “The prince has already died.”
“And the woman you were praying for just now,” Merit added, “has accused you of stealing her child’s ka and killing him!”
“What? Who did she say this to?” I cried. “When?”
“To everyone in the birthing pavilion,” Woserit replied.
I thought I might faint. Merit rushed to bring me a stool, while Woserit said something about everyone in Thebes hearing Iset’s accusation by nightfall.
“And Ramesses?” I breathed deeply. “What did Ramesses say?”
“I’m sure he didn’t believe her,” Merit vowed. “Who would believe her?”
“Other grieving mothers! Egyptians who already think the Heretic’s niece has powers of persuasion and magic like her aunt.” I looked at Woserit. “I never even saw the prince! She can’t believe I stole her child’s ka.”
“She’s the superstitious granddaughter of a peasant who was plucked from the river by Horemheb. Of course she believes it.”
“How will I convince the people that I haven’t done this?” I whispered.
“You won’t.” Woserit shook her head. “The people will believe what they want to believe. But it won’t matter what they say if you have a prince in your womb. Keep by Ramesses’s side.”
I wept into my hand. “Oh, Ramesses—he’s lost his first child!”
“Which will pave the way for one of your own,” Woserit said roundly.
I stared at her in horror.
I KNEW that Ramesses wouldn’t come to me that night. It would have been wrong to creep away and visit my chamber with Iset still lying in the birthing pavilion, childless. When news spread across Malkata that the prince had died, festivities were quickly abandoned to pay tribute at the Temple of Amun. This time, I didn’t light a cone of incense. Instead, I stood on my balcony, inhaling the bitter air and letting the wind snap at my cloak. Not even Merit dared to call me inside. Why? I thought. What have I done to anger you, Amun? It was my akhu who turned from you! Not me! The wind grew more violent, and all at once, like stars appearing in the night’s sky, a stream of lights began twinkling on the road to the palace gates. At first, they were pinpricks in the distance, but as they grew closer I could recognize an unmistakable chant and understood what the blazing river signified.
“Merit!” I shouted.
She rushed onto the balcony, and I pointed fearfully into the darkness.
Thousands of torchlights wavered in front of the palace gates, and the chanting of “Heretic” grew so loud that it drowned out the wind. A pair of soldiers burst into my chamber, and Ramesses was behind them. His face was as pale as the summer’s moon. One of the guards stepped forward.
“My lady, we must take you to a place of safety at once. There are crowds of people chanting at the gates.” The soldier stole an uneasy glance at Ramesses. “Some believe that Princess Nefertari has had something to do—”
“With the prince’s death?” I asked with dread.
Ramesses regarded me with uncertainty. “I’m sure you didn’t, Nefer. You never saw the prince.”
“Even if I had seen him,” I cried, “do you really believe—”
“But he was such a healthy child!” There were tears in Ramesses’s eyes.
Slowly, I backed away from him. “You don’t really think I could . . .”
“N-no.” Ramesses stumbled over his words. “No. Of course not!”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because there are thousands of people at the gates, and there are only a hundred guards on duty tonight. I have sent Asha to call up the army.”
I turned to his two soldiers; gray-heads, who had probably seen battle from Assyria to Kadesh, yet there was fear in their eyes. The people of Thebes had been angry enough to cross the river in their boats by night.
“If they break through the gates,” the tallest soldier explained, “we cannot assure your safety, Highness. We can take you to the treasury. There is no stronger building in the palace.”
I looked out over the balcony. The chant of “Heretic” was as loud as before. I could hear the bronze gates being drummed by angry fists, and the palace guards warning the people to stand back. “No,” I said firmly. “I will confront them. There is no way to stop them from believing the unbelievable except to face them myself.”
“They will kill you, Highness!” one of the soldiers exclaimed.
But Ramesses looked at me with rash admiration. “I will come with you.”
Merit pleaded, “My lady, no! Don’t do this!” But we rushed through the halls while Merit simpered behind us. I turned and told her to wait in my chamber. Her eyes were wide with fear, and I knew that what we were doing was unwise. It was the kind of foolish thing that Pharaoh Seti had warned me against.
We hurried along the corridors, while on either side courtiers were locking themselves in their chambers for fear of what was to come. Unless the army was roused quickly, thousands of commoners could break the gates and loot the palace. When we reached the courtyard, the two soldiers who accompanied us stood back in fear, their eyes focused warily on the gates, which shook with the pounding fists of the mob. At the top of the ramparts, archers watched the angry crowd with their bows at the ready. Ramesses held on to my hand as tightly as he could without crushing it, and the sound of my heartbeat was even louder in my ears than the chanting or the wind. We approached the steps leading up the palace walls, and Ramesses’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Stand back!” he shouted to his own men, who crowded the stairs leading to the ramparts. “Stand back!” As the guards recognized his nemes crown, they moved away.
The men watched us with incredulous eyes as we climbed. For a moment, when we reached the top of the palace walls, I thought the mountains were on fire. Instead, a sea of thousands of torc
hes burned below us in the crisp Pharmuthi night. When the people nearest the gates recognized the crown of a Pharaoh above them, the chanting suddenly grew hesitant and seemed muted by his presence.
I marveled at Ramesses’s bravery as he raised his arms and addressed the angry mob. “You have come here chanting for a heretic’s blood,” he cried above the storm. “But I have come here to tell you that no heretic exists!”
There were angry exclamations in the crowd, and voices rose in protest.
“I am the father of the prince who has died. No one wishes to have an heir more than me. Therefore, if I come to you saying that there was no magic involved in his death, should you not believe me?”
An unsettled murmur passed through the mob, and Ramesses continued. “This is the woman you are calling heretic. The princess Nefertari! Does she look to you like a woman who practices magic? Does she look like a heretic?”
“She looks like Nefertiti!” an old man shouted, and the people behind him raised their torches in approbation. There was a sudden push against the gates. Ramesses took my hand and stood firmly in his place. The chant of “Heretic” was taken up again, and Ramesses’s voice grew fiercer so he could be heard above the cry.
“And who here thinks their Pharaoh would take a heretic for his wife?” he challenged. “Who here believes that the son of the Reconquerer would risk the wrath of the gods?”
This was clever, for no one would accuse Pharaoh himself of purposefully angering Amun. The angry chant died away again, and Ramesses turned to me.
“It’s true!” I shouted. “I am the niece of a heretic. But if you are not responsible for your grandfather’s crimes, why should I be? Who in this crowd has chosen their akhu? If that were possible, wouldn’t we all be born into Pharaoh’s family?”
There was a surprised murmur in the crowd, and Ramesses’s grip on my hand relaxed.
“Weigh each heart on its own,” I shouted, “for how many of us would pass into the Afterlife if Osiris weighed our hearts with those of our akhu?”
The Heretic Queen Page 19
