The Egyptian Royals Collection

by Michelle Moran

  “It will certainly be a fight. And not just between my brother and Queen Tuya. While we were on the dais, Aloli was sitting among the court. She heard their whispers.”

  “About me? What did they say?”

  Aloli nodded. “Things I shouldn’t repeat, my lady.”

  “And you saw Henuttawy’s reaction tonight,” Woserit went on. “The High Priest’s response will be even worse if Ramesses asks to marry you. Especially if the gossip is true and Rahotep has been visiting my sister’s chamber. But my brother loves Ramesses and rarely denies him. I doubt he will now.”

  “But Henuttawy can be persuasive,” I said.

  “Not as persuasive as a man in love.”

  “But what if he’s not in love with me? You heard what Ramesses said at the feast—that I’m more useful in the palace than in the temple.”

  Woserit gave me a long look from beneath her cloak. “He will say what he must to convince his father. Pharaoh Seti may see you as a daughter, but thinking that you are a good choice for a wife is something different.”

  I turned my face to the river, so that no one would see my hurt.

  Aloli added gently, “You’ll know if he loves you by how long he’s willing to fight.”

  “And if he gives up the fight, he’ll have decided I’m not worth it,” I said as the boat approached the quay.

  “So make sure you are,” Woserit remarked.

  We passed through the gates of Hathor’s temple, and Woserit sent an army of servants to help pack my belongings. In my chamber, Merit ordered hot water for my bath.

  “At this hour?” one of the servants questioned.

  “Of course, at this hour. Do you think I want it for the morning?” Merit chided.

  When the hot water came, I lay back in the tub and tried to remember everything that had happened in Ramesses’s chamber. I wanted to go over it again and again so there was no detail I would ever forget. As Merit scrubbed at my back, I told her what had happened from beginning to end, and when I was finished, she let out a huge sigh and wept, “Oh, my lady, you are a woman now! And soon …” She sniffed. “Soon, you will belong to Ramesses.”

  “Oh, mawat, don’t cry. I will never leave you. Not for a hundred Pharaohs.”

  Merit blinked and raised her chin. “I’m crying tears of joy, not sorrow,” she promised. “It is what I always imagined. Queen Nefertari. Mother to the future King of Egypt.”

  I lay in the warm water and sighed. “And we wouldn’t be afraid of anyone,” I said. “Not the High Priest or Henuttawy. Even Iset couldn’t touch us if I were queen.” I stood from the water and Merit handed me a heavy linen. I wrapped myself in its length and shivered. “But what if I can’t have children?” I worried.

  “Who would say such a thing?” Merit hissed. “Why wouldn’t you be able to have children?” she demanded.

  “I am small.”

  “Many women are small.”

  “Not as small as I am, and my mother died giving birth to me,” I whispered.

  “You will have plenty of children,” Merit blustered. “As many as you wish.”

  I put on a sheath. Outside the robing room I could hear the servants moving baskets and placing my belongings into the many chests I had returned with from Malkata. I passed through the bustle and stood on the balcony overlooking the groves. The sycamores were bent like old women in the moonlight, thin and twisted, and I wondered when I would see them again. I shivered in my linen, and when Merit saw me she gave a sharp cry.

  “My lady! What are you doing outside?”

  “This will be the last night I look out over this,” I said.

  She marched onto the balcony and took my arm. “And it will be your last night in Egypt if you catch sick and die. Get yourself into bed. You must sleep for tomorrow!”

  But I looked behind me to catch a last glimpse of Hathor’s groves. These will be my last moments of peace, I thought. From now on, my love for Ramesses will bring nothing but chaos.

  “My lady is sleeping now,” Merit announced to the servants in the chamber. “We will finish in the morning.” When the servants disappeared, she shut the heavy doors and came to my bedside. “You are a woman,” she marveled again, looking down at me.

  Tefer curled against my pillow, and I laughed. “I have been a woman for two years.”

  “But a woman is not really a woman until … Perhaps in a few months we will be preparing the birthing chamber for you,” she said proudly.

  When Merit left, I lay in my bed and looked up at the painted ceiling. I had probably seen that painting a hundred times, but do you think that I can recall it now? This is how memories are; what seems so clear and unforgettable at one moment vanishes like steam the next. I didn’t want this to happen to the afternoon that Ramesses and I had shared together, so I imagined it again and again in my mind, committing to memory the look in his eyes, the smell of his skin, the feel of his strong legs between mine. I felt a deep longing to be with him, and I wondered whether he was thinking of me in the palace, too.

  I slept fitfully that night, worried that in the morning I would awake and find it all to have been a dream. But when the milky sun filtered through the reed mats, I opened my eyes and saw that the servants were already packing. Merit smiled at me over a handful of linens.

  “I wondered if you were planning to get up at all, my lady.”

  I scrambled from my bed. “Are we leaving?”

  “As soon as you’ve dressed and braided your hair. Then I expect that Woserit will want to speak with you.”

  I had become skilled at dressing quickly in the cold, and by the time Merit had finished with my hair, Woserit came in to survey the chamber. The servants had removed my bottles and heavy chests. Even my sheaths, and robes, and beaded gowns had been folded into baskets and whisked away. The chamber looked large and empty, and the glazed tile walls and high ceilings echoed with our voices.

  “They have done well,” Woserit said approvingly. “Are you prepared to leave?”

  I felt a rising panic in my chest. The temple was not my home, but it was where I had become a woman and learned to be a princess. “I would like to say farewell to Aloli first,” I said. “And some of the other priestesses.”

  “There will be time for that.” Woserit took a seat and motioned for me to do the same. I sat, and Woserit made a face. “I shall hope you don’t take your throne that way! Like some weary petitioner who’s stood outside the court all day and is willing to throw herself on the first available surface for relief.”

  I tried again, standing and then slowly seating myself. I pressed my knees together and straightened my back. I folded my hands over my lap and looked at her.

  “Much better. The way you take your chair this morning will say as much about you as the words that come out of your mouth.” She motioned with her hand. “Let’s get Tefer into a basket and make your farewells. This will be a busy day. If Ramesses does plan to make you his wife, he will have to fight for you in the Audience Chamber. Do you recall what Paser told you about being inside?”

  “That it’s like the Great Hall, but instead there’s only one table with petitioners.”

  “And on the dais, there will be four thrones.”

  “For Ramesses, Pharaoh Seti, Queen Tuya, and Iset.”

  “And if Ramesses makes you his queen, you will take Iset’s place. She will not be welcome in the Great Hall after that.”

  I pressed my lips together and acknowledged the gravity of displacing Iset.

  “Of course, Ramesses must never know that you want to be Chief Wife. Let him come to that decision on his own. But even if he makes you queen, he will divide his time between you and Iset.” Woserit saw my expression and added, “If you love Ramesses, you will not make it difficult for him. Heirs for the throne of Egypt are more important than any wife’s petty jealousy.”

  I felt stung, but nodded in agreement. “I will be pleasant at all times,” I promised her.

  “And cheerful,” she adde
d, “and welcoming.”

  Eventually, we made our way out of the temple and reached the quay, where all of my belongings were being carried in cedar chests onto Hathor’s ship. While Merit supervised the move, I bade my farewells to the priestesses of Hathor. Aloli was particularly sad to see me go.

  “Who will I share my secrets with now?” she complained.

  “You’ll find some innocent priestess to lead astray,” I teased. “But truly,” I said, and my words were in earnest, “thank you. For everything.” I gave her a farewell embrace, and Merit brought a mewling Tefer onto the boat as the last of our belongings. I stood on the stern of Hathor’s ship, surrounded by baskets and heavy chests, and waved to the priestesses on the shore.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SIMPLY A MARRIAGE

  WHEN WE ARRIVED in Malkata, the quay was filled with the towering prows of Pharaoh Seti’s ships. Their blue and gold pennants snapped in the wind, while below them an army of servants was packing the royal belongings for a journey north. There was the royal statuary wrapped carefully in linen, and chests so large that four men shouldered poles simply to carry them. Chamberlains, scribes, fan bearers, sandal bearers, even emissaries were rushing to pack for Avaris, where Seti would rule Lower Egypt while Ramesses governed the upper kingdom from Thebes.

  “I thought Pharaoh was going to announce his move today?” I asked.

  “Officially, yes,” Woserit replied.

  “But the court already knows?”

  “Certainly. But the rest of Egypt must be told. My brother will make his announcement in the Audience Chamber, and his scribes will post the news at the door of every temple.”

  Woserit instructed the boatsmen to carry my chests into the royal courtyard, and Merit passed the basket with Tefer to a young girl who promised to take him to the chamber that Woserit had given me. As we walked through the towering gates of Malkata, Merit whispered, “Stop fidgeting.” I was twisting the linen edges of my belt. “There’s nothing you can do now,” she added. “It’s in the hands of the gods.”

  In the palace, there was a tense energy, as if the court knew what Ramesses was about to request, and how the viziers and High Priestess of Isis would respond. Courtiers darted furtive glances at me, and a young serving girl lowered her heavy linen basket to watch us pass. In the golden hall before the Audience Chamber, Woserit said firmly, “Stay here with Merit until the herald calls for you.”

  We seated ourselves on an ebony bench whose legs had been carved into the heads of swans. “Are there petitioners inside?”

  “No. They have been dismissed. Today is for my brother’s private business.”

  “And Iset?” I asked quickly.

  Woserit sniffed. “Without the petitioners, there’s no reason for her to be here. She’s probably hennaing her toenails in the baths.” She pulled open one of the heavy bronze doors, and as she entered, she left it wide open behind her. I glanced at Merit.

  “This is why we arrived late,” she whispered.

  So that Woserit could be the last in the chamber and leave the door open for us to listen. I looked up at the guards, but both of their faces were expressionless, and I wondered if they had been paid to cooperate. I leaned forward on the bench and looked in. The Audience Chamber was as wide and impressive as both Paser and Woserit had described it. A forest of columns held up the painted ceiling, and from the high windows you could see the crests of the western hills. Ramesses was seated between his parents. Below him, at a table for viziers and dignitaries, I recognized Henuttawy by the red of her cloak. Her back was to us, and only those who were sitting on the dais could look down the long aisle of the Audience Chamber and see that the door had been left open. But today no one would be interested in what was happening outside.

  At first, there were too many voices from within to make out anything clearly. Then I heard Pharaoh’s golden crook strike the dais, and suddenly there was silence. The announcement was made that he and Queen Tuya would leave for Avaris in two days on the thirteenth of Choiak.

  We listened as Pharaoh Seti told his court sculptor what sort of image should be carved on the Wall of Proclamation outside of Karnak to let visitors know his court had moved to Avaris. He wanted a painting of a fleet of ships, with him and the queen standing on a prow in their golden crowns. In the next scene, he imagined himself standing on the quay in Avaris. There was a moment of silence as the sculptor took notes, then I heard Paser’s voice addressing Pharaoh Seti. “There is something His Highness Ramesses would like to request.”

  Courtiers shifted uncomfortably, and their gold bangles clinked loudly in the uneasy silence. The court knew what Ramesses was going to ask, and Henuttawy had made certain to be in the Audience Chamber for the announcement. Next to her I could see the leopard cloak of the High Priest. Although I couldn’t see his face, I could imagine Rahotep’s carnelian eye moving as he followed the proceedings, and how his lips were stretched into his grotesque hyena’s grin.

  Ramesses stood from his throne. “Father,” he said formally, “in two days you will make the journey from the palace of Malkata to your father’s palace of Pi-Ramesses. But before you leave, I would like your permission to marry the princess Nefertari.”

  Whispered murmurs rippled through the court, and I imagined Henuttawy’s beautiful face frozen like a funerary mask. I supposed that Ramesses glanced at her when he said, “I have made Iset a princess and wife to me. Although I love her, I love Nefertari as well.” He argued, “Princess Nefertari is well studied. She can speak eight languages and will be a valuable asset in this chamber. She is—”

  “The niece of a Heretic King?” Henuttawy offered.

  Ramesses replied with heat, “That was many years ago.”

  “Not so many that the people don’t remember.” The Vizier Nebamun stepped forward and blocked my view of Henuttawy. “Your Highnesses, love alone does not make a good wife.”

  “Which is why we are fortunate that Nefertari is also wise enough to serve in this chamber,” Ramesses said.

  Courtiers began talking over one another, and Pharaoh Seti raised his crook and struck it twice on the base of the dais. “Nebamun and Henuttawy, we have heard what you both have to say. Vizier Anemro?”

  Vizier Anemro stood from a table at the base of the dais, and I could hear him address Pharaoh Seti politely before saying, “I agree with the High Priestess of Isis. Looking to the future, to make the princess Nefertari Chief Wife would be dangerous to His Highness’s reign.”

  Beneath the dais, Rahotep remained silent. Ramesses asked sternly, “Vizier Paser?”

  Paser stood, and his was the first voice raised in my defense. “I do not see any harm or danger in making Princess Nefertari queen.”

  “Nor I,” Woserit said firmly.

  The High Priest of Amun finally spoke. “Even though her family murdered my father and abolished Egypt’s gods?” he spat. “Has that already been forgotten? The blood of heretics runs through her veins!”

  Pharaoh Seti struck his crook on the dais and declared, “Princess Nefertari is a daughter to me. I do not care what blood runs in her veins.”

  “But the people will,” Henuttawy snapped. She understood that Seti was going to allow Ramesses to wed and added quickly, “At least wait until after the marriage to choose a Chief Wife.” I could see her face now. She turned to Ramesses. “Wait to see how the people will react. For the sake of peace throughout your long reign, wait until the ceremony is finished.”

  “I fear a rebellion,” Rahotep warned.

  “Wait,” Henuttawy suggested. “Then, if you still want to make her queen over Iset—”

  “I wouldn’t call it over Iset,” Ramesses said quickly.

  “Instead of Iset,” Henuttawy corrected, coarsely. “Then there will be two feasts to celebrate.”

  Pharaoh Seti sighed. “The decision of Chief Wife will wait. But what does Nefertari have to say about this? I hope you haven’t pressured her into marriage.”

  “Bring her in,�
�� Ramesses answered. “She can tell you herself.”

  I looked at Merit, who rushed to straighten my wig. When the herald discovered the open door, he glanced at the guards, then at us. We both stood quickly.

  “You are wanted in the Audience Chamber,” he said.

  We followed him through the great doors of carved bronze, and I was shocked by how large the room really was once I was inside of it. Not even Paser’s careful model had captured the true grandeur of the hall. This is where my mother sat with Nefertiti when she was my age, I realized, and where she ruled alongside Pharaoh Horemheb. I studied the long expanse of polished tiles and the vaulted roof of gold. The limestone columns depicted scenes of previous kings in their triumphs. Ebony chairs with ivory inlay were clustered around Senet boards throughout the chamber. I imagined that courtiers usually filled those seats, laughing together and ready to entertain Pharaoh whenever he grew bored.

  Henuttawy and Woserit watched our entrance, and as we reached the thrones, the heated whispers between the viziers increased. Courtiers gathered like thick clusters of grapes around the dais while we held out our arms in obeisance and bowed. When I arose, Ramesses met my gaze.

  “Princess Nefertari.” Pharaoh Seti smiled. “You have returned to Malkata to be married to Ramesses. But tell me.” He leaned forward. “Is this what you wish?”

  I closed my eyes briefly and nodded. “More than anything,” I whispered.

  “And you are certain of this? My son can be very persuasive. If you’re afraid to hurt his feelings, he’ll recover.”

  “There is nothing for him to recover from except my excessive love,” I said.

  “Very pretty.” Henuttawy clapped. “If the Passion Plays of Osiris are missing an actress we will know who to send them.”

  “It’s not an act,” I said simply, and something in my voice prompted Pharaoh Seti to sit back. He regarded me for a moment, and I hoped he could see the earnestness in my stare.

  “Let them be wed,” Seti pronounced with a wave, and I exhaled.