by Dee, Debbie
“Some adventure,” he said once everyone had left.
Tiy smiled. “I guess you could call it that.” She was surprised to find that her usual discomfort around others was absent. How odd that she should feel so comfortable speaking to a prince of Egypt.
“I don’t get many opportunities to have adventure anymore,” he said. “All I do is study and work, and train. I’ll be eighty before I know it.”
Tiy giggled. “You’ll have a crooked back and smelly breath.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she’d just said to a prince!
His eyes widened, no doubt mirroring her own. And then his shoulders relaxed, and a small laugh forced its way through his nose as if he had forgotten how it was done. He chuckled louder at the sound he had made. “I’ll have big ears and bushy eyebrows,” he said.
Tiy lowered her hands, exposing her smile. He watched her as if waiting for her to say something else funny, giving her permission to continue their made-up game.
“Hairy toes and no teeth!” Tiy said between giggling breaths. She had never had such careless fun with anyone before. She knew Prince Amenhotep wasn’t a friend of hers, but it was gracious of him to pretend for a few minutes.
Once their laughing subsided, Prince Amenhotep slumped his shoulders and cast a forlorn look to the ground. “And I’ll still not have had much fun,” he said.
“There is still time,” she said.
He shrugged again. “Your hair is so light,” he said after a pause. “I didn’t notice that before.”
Tiy took a breath and bit her bottom lip. She didn’t feel like talking about why she didn’t look like an Egyptian. “It was dark before, so you couldn’t see it.” She wanted to crawl underneath the covers and hide. Now he knew who she really was.
“Even so, it is the color of corn silk. No, it is the color of the sun. It’s as if you carry the desert sun with you where ever you go. I like it.”
Smiling, Tiy ducked her head. Perhaps the students at the royal school would accept her, after all. If a prince could accept her without question, why not the rest of the children? But an ache flared in her chest, reminding her it was too much to hope for. Her mother warned her about becoming a pessimist, but as far as Tiy was concerned, a pessimist was just an optimist with experience. She knew better than to dream of acceptance.
Chapter 7. Freckled Abomination
Tiy’s reflection glinted off the choppy surface of the Nile. She said goodbye to the slimy fish that disgusted her, the black silt that cooled her, and the spreading palms that comforted her. She would miss her quiet haven near the river.
It had been a week since she left Pharaoh’s camp. The barge that would escort her to Memphis, the capital of Egypt, would arrive today. She twisted a blade of grass around her finger and watched the river. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. She was terrified, in fact. It was as if a dozen Mbuta fish were flitting around in her stomach.
Nebetya had been more than willing to come with her, for which Tiy would forever be grateful. Nebetya had cried, of course, when Tiy asked her. Nebetya cried at just about everything and always managed to recover herself before tears ever thought about spilling over. Tiy found it endearing to watch her emotions unfold, especially since it took a beast of an experience to extract a tear from her own eyes. Nebetya’s friendship was genuine, Tiy knew that now, and she relied on it more than she could imagine.
She had spent the morning and well into the afternoon with Nebetya, helping with the daily responsibilities. In fact, she spent most mornings with Nebetya. Her mother never knew, of course, and for good reason, too. If she discovered her only daughter degrading herself to such menial tasks as grinding grain or weaving flaxen thread, there was no telling what she would do. She would be furious with Nebetya for allowing it and furious with Tiy for risking the softness of her hands and the feminine frailty of her arms.
Nebetya never questioned why Tiy wanted to work with her, but she never let her do anything too rough. “You must protect your hands, my lady” Nebetya would say. “A lady should have soft hands so that her suitors may know she was lavished upon and well cared for.”
Nebetya must have heard this from her mother.
“I’m only twelve,” Tiy would protest. “There will be plenty of time for my hands to soften before suitors come knocking at my door.” If they ever come, she thought. Who would want her foreign blood in their family line?
But Nebetya would never hear of it. “Even so,” she would argue, “we must protect your delicate skin.”
And that was it—the real reason. Tiy had delicate skin, at least in comparison to everyone else in Egypt. She and her father shared lighter coloring than the natives, their skin a creamy alabaster rather than the liquid bronze of the Egyptians. Her father’s father had defected from Mitanni to Egypt with enough money to secure freedom, but not enough to secure acceptance. Her father had been the one to work his way up to the status of an Official to the Crown.
Nebetya’s soft footsteps fell behind her and the memory vanished from Tiy’s mind, replaced by the feeling of another Mbuta fish jumping up from her stomach to tickle her throat. Tiy swallowed it down.
“The household has assembled to bid you farewell, my lady,” Nebetya said. And then she burst into tears.
Tiy cocked her head to the side and smiled. “You are coming with me, Nebetya. Or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten. I just can’t help it.” She wiped at her nose.
Tiy hugged her, not caring that any display of affection toward a servant was considered inappropriate. Her mother could scold her all she wanted. Tiy wouldn’t have to listen to it for much longer.
The servants lined up along the outer courtyard to bid Tiy farewell, both freeman and slaves. Her mother buried her face into her father’s chest and, when they thought she wasn’t looking, a few of the servants snuck in a hand squeeze or a quick kiss on Tiy’s cheeks. Tiy couldn’t believe the affection they showed her and wondered why they hadn’t expressed it before.
Her parents escorted her to the water’s edge where the barge waited. It wasn’t as adorned as the vessels of the royal fleet, but elegant in its own right. Scenes of the Nile were carved into the timbers with paintings of birds bobbing up and down as their images moved with the swell and fall of the barge.
Her trunks had already been loaded, and Nebetya waited beneath a white canopy that fluttered in the breeze. Two men in white linen tunics stood at the riverbank, the tallest of which extended his hand to offer assistance into the barge.
“I am Siese,” he said, “and this is Bek.” He pointed to the young man on the deck whose arms were folded, his gaze pointed elsewhere. “We are your escorts to Memphis,” Siese continued. “The tide is high, so we should arrive before the second of Akhet.”
He turned to her father and bowed at the waist. “Your young one will be safe from harm while in our care and will arrive in Memphis swiftly.”
Tiy gave her parents quick hugs. “I’ll do my best to bring you honor,” she said.
Her father nodded and her mother began bellowing like a dying elephant.
She took Siese’s hand and boarded the barge. The elegant vessel was wide enough that her added weight had no effect on how it rocked. She didn’t even feel it lower into the Nile.
Nebetya took her arm and led her to the canopied area where cushions of indigo and violet spread over a thick rug, looking more like mountains of feather and silk than actual furniture. Tiy sunk into the cushion nearest her and watched as the oarsman pushed the barge away from the riverbank. Despite her initial aversion to leaving home, a surge of excitement burst through her. She had never traveled far from Akhmim, and Memphis was a city she only dreamed she might see. She couldn’t wait to see the city that bound the Two Lands of Upper Egypt and Lower Egypt.
The day passed in a blur of magnificent sights. They passed stone temples and green pastures, quaint villages and bustling markets. Birds flew overhe
ad, swooping near the water to catch a jumping fish. And the heads of rambling hippopotami peeked from the swarthy surfaces as if playing a game of Jackal Eye.
Tiy shared a small cabin with Nebetya where they could wash themselves and rest. Despite how clean and well furnished it was, Tiy spent as little time as possible in the cramped room. She hated having her view obscured by wooden walls, no matter how decorated they were.
Several days into the journey the wind blowing from the south seemed to be in a hurry to push them toward Memphis. But the sail strained to contain the added pressure and the mast creaked and moaned in protest. Siese and Bek began bickering the moment everyone woke up.
“I don’t understand why the hind winds are not carrying us,” Siese said as his fingers rubbed a circle on either side of his eyes. “They have only grown stronger.”
Bek shook his head. “We are too heavy. You saw what happened to the Beauties of Amun when it hit a sandbar. We were shoaled in for over a week!”
“I don’t see how we could be too heavy. Our provisions are lighter than the Beauties of Amun’s load.”
“But look how low we ride in the water.”
Siese moved his circling fingers to his forehead. “I don’t have the patience to deal with this right now. My head is pounding.”
Bek turned his back to Tiy and motioned for Siese to do the same. He lowered his voice, but the breeze carried his whispers to her. “It is a sign from Hapi, or a sign from Shu. The freckled girl is an abomination.”
“She saved Prince Amenhotep,” Siese whispered back.
“Or put him in danger in the first place. Your headache could be a sign too. I’m just sayin’.”
“Nonsense! I had more henket than I should have last night. Besides, look at her, she is full of innocence.”
They both glanced at Tiy over their shoulders. She turned her chin and gazed into the water, feigning sudden interest in something within its depths. How could they blame her for their speed or for the danger Prince Amenhotep had been in? She’d been insulted many times before, but never had it stung so badly. She would never hurt the prince.
“Well something doesn’t want her in Memphis,” Bek said. “We are moving at a camel’s pace.”
“Camels are quite fast, you know,” Siese said with a smile, although with his eyes flinching against the bright sun, it looked closer to a grimace.
“Don’t get smart with me,” Bek grumbled.
Tiy’s eyes widened. Bek couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than her, and yet he showed Siese, who was much older than her father, such disrespect. Siese was obviously an experienced shipmaster, and could have tossed Bek overboard for his insolence, but he only shook his head and chuckled.
“Settle down, Bek.” Siese said. “There is no reason to be rude.” He ran a hand behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Toss some barrels into the river. Perhaps that will lighten our load.”
Bek shrugged and hefted a water barrel over his shoulder. “I don’t think this will work.” He threw the barrel overboard. “Hapi will not be pleased,” he added with a mumble.
“What did you say?” Siese asked.
Bek shrugged. “Nothing.”
Bek worked his way closer to Tiy, tossing barrel after barrel of their clean, critter-less water into the Nile. As he worked, he mumbled about how the great god of the Nile, Hapi, would pull them all into the depths of the river in order to protect Egypt’s capital from such a filthy abomination. Tiy did her best to ignore him and leaned over the rail to watch the bobbing barrels slip below the surface. But she couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Was that why the barge dragged in the water, despite Shu’s powerful southern wind? Because Egypt’s gods didn’t want her near their temples?
A gust of wind blew through her hair and then shoved her against the rail. Surprised by the wind’s sudden strength, Tiy lost her balance, her feet lifting from the safety of the deck. She reached out to grip the railing, but her hand slipped and her body flipped over the rail.
Tiy heard a piercing scream coming from Nebetya’s direction. Or maybe she heard her own scream as she hit the water. She couldn’t tell. She knew her mouth had been opened, at least, because she swallowed a mouthful of water on impact. She kicked and flapped her arms, but the weight of the Nile pulled her down. She wanted to scream for help or cry out to Hapi to pull her to safety, but she was too afraid he had been the one to snatch her from the boat and take her within his grip.
She kicked with all her strength. She wouldn’t let Hapi, or his precious Nile, take from her what she wasn’t willing to give. But the river tossed her around like a worthless pebble and she couldn’t tell which way was up or down. Everything was dark. She felt so helpless, unsure if her feeble attempts were bringing her closer to the surface or toward the thick black silt of the river bottom. Her lungs burned and her head swirled into dizziness. Her body wanted to give up. It was betraying her. She felt so tired, so weak.
Something hard rammed into her side, and the remaining air within her lungs burst out in tiny bubbles that floated to the surface. The surface! Her mind grasped onto the thought. The surface. The surface.
She kicked toward the rising bubbles, but something held her trapped, confining her movements. She wiggled and squirmed, but its grasp tightened. Something yanked on her waist, and she realized with terror that she was being pulled away. Gruesome images of hippopotami and crocodiles rolling their prey flitted through her fading mind. She was going to be torn to pieces and fed to their young! Or worse, left to sustain the lives of the slimy wide-eyed Mbuta fish that flitted back and forth across the river bottom. Hapi would win, after all.
Chapter 8. Small Victory
Tiy’s body flopped against the barge’s deck. A whoosh of breath entered her lungs followed by the strange gurgling sound of water heaving from her chest. She was still dizzy, and an annoying ring seemed to have taken up residence in her ears. But she was alive.
“Take her below,” Siese said, dripping wet. He leaned over, his hands on his knees, and pulled in several deep breaths.
“Thank you,” Tiy said as Nebetya pulled her up.
Siese straightened and looked as if he was about to say something until Bek slapped a net on the deck in front of Tiy’s feet.
“Your wig,” he said with a fixed stare.
Tiy didn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed. She wasn’t even sure she had the strength to pick it up.
Nebetya scooped the mangled pile of hair from the deck and tucked into her apron. “You are too kind,” she said, matching Bek’s glare.
“We’ll shore up here tonight and wait until the storm passes,” Siese said.
Tiy let her head fall back to catch a glimpse of the sky. Sure enough, thick clouds were rolling in. She shuddered. She should have known Shu, god of the wind, would punish her for not showing him the obeisance he had demanded in the desert.
Nebetya wrapped a blanket around her and led her to the cabin. Tiy fell upon the bed in a sopping wet slumber only to wake later to Nebetya crying over her tangled wig.
Tiy sat up, ignoring her headache, and chuckled. “It looks fine enough. There really is no reason to cry over it. I’m sure my mother had three more just like it packed into my trunk.”
Nebetya half cried, half laughed. “You are probably right.”
Tiy pulled back the blanket and swung to her feet, regretting it at once. Swaying back and forth, the blood rushed from her head, taking her vision with it. She sat back down and waited for it to pass. The sudden blindness left her, but her pounding headache remained.
Nebetya nudged Tiy’s shoulders until she lay back down. “Siese said you wouldn’t feel well when you woke. He said you’d feel like you had had too much henket to drink.”
“I’ve never had barley beer.” Tiy said. “But he’s right; I don’t feel well.”
“Just lie down, my lady. We aren’t going anywhere anyway. The barge sits too low in the water, and Siese and Bek have done nothing
but argue since Siese pulled you from the river.”
Tiy felt an overwhelming gratitude for Siese. She could hear him arguing above them, standing up for her right as an official’s daughter to enter Memphis. She rose to her feet again to escape the stifling cabin.
Nebetya tugged on her wet kalasiris. “Don’t you want to change before you return to the deck, my lady? I know how much you distaste the transparency of Egyptian fabric, but this might be worse.”
Tiy looked down at herself and cringed. She looked as if she wore nothing at all. Nodding, Tiy tore her kalasiris off and slipped into a dry, more opaque dress. Nebetya dug through her trunks and found another wig. It reached below her waist and was thick enough that she could keep her yellow hair unpinned beneath. The heavier wig made for hotter days, but it was more comfortable than trying to hide a big knot of hair on the back of her head. Maybe she should shave her head.
By the time she reached the deck, Siese and Bek’s quarreling had ceased. But they were still riding low in the water, their movement slower than a slug. Tiy gazed at the large square sail. It bulged with the weight of the wind, stretching as far as the fabric would allow, but the angle seemed wrong, somehow. She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. Something seemed off. She didn’t know much about boats, or the proper techniques for sailing, but the sail appeared heaviest at the bottom as if the air was pushing them down. Curious, she walked closer to examine it.
The sail was attached at the top and bottom of a tall mast with ropes as thick as her arm. It appeared the ropes at the top were longer than the ropes it at the bottom, which, she assumed, was why the sail appeared misshapen. The wind was filling the sail and pushing them forward, but it was also pushing them down. It seemed to her that if the ropes on the bottom were longer, the wind would push them up and out of the water, giving them the speed they wanted.
Her eyes followed the movements of Siese and Bek. Siese had moved to the stern while Bek was at the bow throwing more barrels overboard. Didn’t they see the cause of the problem? She didn’t want to say anything. If she was wrong, they would laugh at her. And if she was right, they would be irritated a girl had seen something they hadn’t.
