The Kingdom of Nefertiti (The Desert Queen Book 3)

by M. L. Bullock

  In a sudden reversal of mood, Amenhotep waved his hand dismissively and said, “Nevertheless, I see that I have been shortsighted in this. It is not my desire to see blood spilled. Where is my scribe? Anai! Come!”

  The tall, silent man shuffled forward and sat on the floor at Amenhotep’s feet. He stretched out a papyrus and held a feathered pen.

  “Send a letter to all of Thebes. Tell the people…tell them that we cannot forget our traditions. We must honor Amun with offerings. On behalf of Maya, I command the people to bring a fifth of this month’s earnings to the temples of Amun.”

  “A fifth? That is too much, Pharaoh. We come only for what is due—no more.”

  Amenhotep smiled at Maya and said, “I am sure you will get what is due to you, High Priest. Leave now…with my blessing, of course.”

  I chewed my lip nervously as the priests began to exit the court in complete silence. I did not know what they hoped to achieve, but I was certain this was not it. The anger of the people would rise against them, I hoped. I prayed it did not turn against Amenhotep. As the court emptied, new petitioners entered, foreigners by the look of them. I wondered if these were the Hittites, Tadukhipa’s people. I decided I had seen enough. I did not envy my husband.

  Menmet whispered, “You saw my father? I am so ashamed. He thinks of nothing but those offerings. The priests are angry because the people support their Pharaoh! If he says the Aten is the supreme deity, then they listen. There is nothing these priests can do to stop that. Not even my father.”

  “I pray it does not go against our Pharaoh.”

  “The people will know that the priests of Amun requested this special offering.” She pursed her thin lips in a thoughtful expression. Menmet had been snooping for me—there were problems in the kingdom. But weren’t there always?

  The late Amenhotep had made many promises and pledges to his old enemies; a few foreign kings had sealed their deals with the Hawk of Egypt, as my father-in-law was known, with marriages. Many marriages. Some were official, and others were superficial unions arranged to bring special recognition to whatever dignitaries were in favor at that moment. Recently, I learned from my very knowledgeable Menmet that my Amenhotep was required to keep those wives in a place of honor even after his father traveled to the Otherworld. Amenhotep had inherited all the concubines of the Royal Harem, as was tradition, but the matter of queens and their management was handled quite differently in Egypt.

  To make matters tenser, the Hittites were keen to establish their prized princess as the new superior queen and consort. They wanted to see firsthand how well their daughter, Tadukhipa, was being treated by this new dignitary. In fact, Menmet told me in a whisper late last night, they wanted Tadukhipa to be the Great Wife above everyone. I quietly vowed to myself that if she were to achieve that I would run myself through with a sword. I would never live under her leadership. From the few times we had interacted, I knew for sure that she would kill me with a thousand slow deaths before she ever did the actual killing. Still, it was treasonous for me to bring accusations against any of the queens, as they were the wives of Pharaoh, so we did not speak about it any further.

  When we returned to my chambers I was surprised to see Memre waiting for me. “Lady, what are you doing here? Is everything well with Queen Tiye?” Memre licked her dry lips and I added, “Forgive me; you must be thirsty.” The old lady had a healthy appreciation for wine, so I poured her a goblet full and handed it to her and waved Menmet away.

  “Lady queen, Amenhotep’s mother, the Great Wife of the late Pharaoh, has sent me to you. She wanted you to know that your sister is in the Green Temple of Isis, just near here.”

  Puzzled, I tilted my head and asked, “Sitamen, you mean?”

  “No, Queen Nefertiti. I mean your true Meshwesh sister.”

  “You must be mistaken. She is not in Thebes.”

  “Ah, she is in the Green Temple. I have just come from there, and I saw her with my own two eyes just as my queen bade me.”

  My hands flew to my chest, and I couldn’t hide my shock. “Who would do this? I cannot imagine that she brought herself here.”

  Memre drained the cup and set it down on the table. I filled it again, hoping she would quickly tell me everything she knew. This was not likely. Memre was a careful woman, much like her mistress, and she would weigh her words before she spoke them. With a grim smile of thanks she continued, “This was not done by the Great Queen’s order, if that is what you are thinking. Forgive me, this was not Queen Tiye’s order. She just heard this herself.”

  “What did Pah say? Did you speak with her?”

  “The priestess who cares for your sister would not let me interview her. The girl is in seclusion until the new moon rises next week. The priestess, Margg is her name, says she is there to serve the goddess Isis. We will have to wait until then.” Her eyes narrowed, and she stared into the cup thoughtfully. “But we know who ordered her installment in the Green Temple.”

  “Tadukhipa! But why?”

  “We can only wait and see, but you can be assured that you have a stone enemy with the Monkey. She will never forgive you for stealing Amenhotep’s heart or for the death of her friend.”

  “I had nothing to do with either of those things. I cannot command a man’s heart. Would she harm my sister just to spite me?”

  She nodded slowly, her eyes angry and her mouth a red slit. “She will be much more careful than that. Outright kill her? No. But if she can bring you embarrassment with your sister’s presence, why wouldn’t she?”

  With Pah out of her head, wounded to the soul by the Kiffians, there was no doubt that would be quite easy to accomplish. Memre continued, “Whatever Kiya’s designs, it can only be for your sister’s harm—and yours. Do not think that Tadukhipa is going to lie down without a fight while you are made the Great Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt. She already endured that with Tiye. She does not like being second and has no desire to land in that spot again. She has determined to fight you for that right, and with the Hittites arriving soon she will have the political persuasion she needs to accomplish her goal.”

  “My husband will never raise her above me. He would never do that.”

  Memre laughed, “Ah, but he’s her husband too, isn’t he? And he is Pharaoh and a man—and his father’s son. His heart will not rule his head in this matter.”

  “In name only is he her husband!” I said defensively. “He does not love her, Memre.”

  “Love?” She snorted derisively. “We are not talking about love, Queen Nefertiti. We are talking about kingdoms and alliances and matters of state beyond your feelings, girl. I thought a Desert Queen would know this already. Love is a luxury reserved for bakers, brewers and farmers—not for kings. Which brings me to the Queen’s instructions…”

  I knew what she said was true. I was no fool. Deep down I had always known but had allowed myself to be swept up in the magic of Egypt and, in doing so, had lost control of my own heart. I had forgotten the reality of my situation. I sank into my chair, feeling deflated. The truth was I was here only because Queen Tiye put me here. With the old queen losing influence with her son as other advisers moved in, advisers like Ramose, it would fall upon me to secure my position as queen at his side. I could take nothing for granted. Especially a man’s heart.

  “What does Queen Tiye instruct, Memre?”

  In a low whisper she said, “You know my queen hates Tadukhipa above all others. She reminds you of what she has done for you. You were an insignificant Desert Queen with no home and no army when she met you. Because of her favor, you are where you are now. It is time to get your head out of the clouds and think like a queen—a queen who wants to remain a queen. Queen Tiye orders you to make peace with your uncle. You need an ally. Lift him up with accolades, gifts and whatever honors are necessary. Send him home to rule for a time. Have him return with something of significance, and offer this to the king on behalf of your people. In matters of wealth you likely cannot match the Hi
ttites, but your people can win by proving their loyalty to a greater degree. Prove to your husband and all Egypt that you are more than a peasant queen—more than a pretty face! Begin honoring Isis in public; claim her as your mother often and loudly. I hear that you have never been to the temple. The Queen knows her son worships the Aten, but you must be careful to honor Isis and be seen doing so.”

  I clamped my mouth shut at the veiled insults and accepted the scolding. This was Tiye’s way, and these were her words. “What else?” I asked.

  “In a few weeks a group of ambassadors from Grecia will arrive in Pharaoh’s court. Although you are Isis’ daughter now, it is appropriate for you to greet the Grecian delegates as kinfolk. Queen Tiye says you should do whatever it takes to make an alliance with Grecia. Whatever it takes, Desert Queen! Now is the time to build a following and make some alliances of your own. Fill your personal court with royalty, daughters who will be indebted to you and serve you. If you do not act now, you might as well pack your bags and move into the Royal Harem. Even now it might be too late.”

  “I see,” I said as I tried to process the tasks presented to me. Could she be right? Was I in danger of being supplanted? Why must there always be competition in my life? I had not asked for this life of trials, and I had no idea how to change it.

  “It would also benefit you to have an ally among the queens. Tiye is Pharaoh’s mother, and Tadukhipa is your enemy, so it must be someone else. In her day, Tiye chose Tadukhipa as second wife not because she loved her but because she was wise.”

  I snorted in disgust. “Are you suggesting that I endorse Tadukhipa as second wife and hope that she returns the favor?”

  “No, that is not the way. Look to the other queens or someone else.” She gave me a knowing smile.

  “You obviously have someone in mind, Memre. Please tell me.”

  “I am speaking of Ipy.”

  I waited for her to explain, but she pursed her lips and stared at me as if I were stupid. “You never heard of Ipy?”

  “No, should I have?”

  “Yes, I would think so. It is her crown you are wearing, lady queen. Ipy held Amenhotep’s heart in her hands once, but her father stole her chances when he betrayed the old king. Forbidden to marry her, Amenhotep moved her to the Royal Harem, and that is where she has been ever since. He visits her from time to time, but not like he used to. Still, she might make a good ally against Tadukhipa; she hates her also.”

  “Why has he never mentioned her to me?”

  “Should he? Have you told the king about your lovers? Anyway, it is old news now. She has never given him any children, and I think he’s grown tired of her. If you were to invite her to court from time to time, she would no doubt be in your debt. Remember how lonely it is there? She is young and has no chance at life beyond the harem.”

  “That seems counterproductive, Memre. Why should I invite another rival to join me?”

  “She isn’t your rival. Ipy is a concubine with no hope of ever becoming queen. It is the law. A small kindness from you occasionally, like an invitation to dinner, would go a long way in increasing your status at the harem. Go see her when you can.”

  “Very well, I will do that.”

  “Oh yes, there is one more thing.”

  “Another thing?”

  “Yes, and this is more important than all the others…” she began slowly, “but I think you may have already accomplished this task.” She grabbed my hands and stared at my palms for a few moments, and then cupped my chin with her right hand as she peered into my eyes. The speed of her movements surprised me, and I did not fight her. I stared back into her piercing eyes; the kohl rings around them were messy, and I could easily see a collection of fine lines. Memre was old—older than even Queen Tiye. A light breeze began to blow through the room; it moved through the gauzy curtains and caused the green leaves of the potted palms to flutter. She chuckled and said, “You are pregnant, Queen Nefertiti. Pharaoh has planted his seed in your belly.” She pointed her finger at me approvingly. “That is good. That will work in your favor. This is a thing that Tadukhipa has not yet achieved. Yes, the queen will be pleased.”

  “How do you know I am with child?” I could not hide my surprise.

  She fell back in the chair and smiled at me. “You have much to learn about the ways of women, my Queen. Perhaps it is not your fault since you had no mother—no mother except Isis, that is. Call the physician if you like and have him examine you. You will see I speak the truth.”

  “I do not doubt you, Memre,” I said with an embarrassed smile. Eager to come out from under her scrutinizing gaze, I rose from my chair and walked to the window to catch my breath and get some air. I watched the activity in the courtyard below. Many people, Egyptians and foreigners, streamed in and out of the court. The place seemed livelier than normal. I could feel the excitement in the air. Queen Tiye was right. I could not sit idly by and hope that Amenhotep chose me as his Great Royal Wife. I had my child to think about.

  “Please tell Queen Tiye I will do as she commands. I have no intention of bowing down to Tadukhipa.”

  Memre walked to the window and stood beside me. Patting my shoulder kindly she said quietly, “Queen Tiye says to give you this greeting. She says you will know what it means.” I pulled my attention from the window and watched in surprise as Memre made the Meshwesh sign of respect and said, “Hafa-nu, Queen Nefertiti.” Tears flooded my eyes and a sob escaped my lips. This was a sign that all would be well. I was not alone.

  I returned the gesture and hugged Memre, “Hafa-nu, Queen Tiye. And Hafa-nu, Memre.”

  I turned my attention back to the window as the older woman left to return to her mistress. I watched Amenhotep as he climbed upon one of his new horses. It was taller than any horse I had ever seen, with a long, curved neck and strong, stocky legs. Amenhotep laughed as the animal pitched once and Aperel reached for the reins. I smiled at the sight. Leaning against the cold marble, I twisted a strand of my wig and enjoyed the moment. If Memre was correct, I would give my husband a greater gift than any horse or treasure.

  I would give him a son. The breeze returned, and I heard a whisper. A familiar whisper. I had heard it before in my dreams.

  Smenkhkare!

  Chapter Four

  Ramose—The Heart of a Beast

  “Brother! What are you doing sitting alone in the dark?” Kafta asked me. His voice always sounded like a man who had been hanged but had escaped seconds before death. He waved the oil lamp at the darkness and lit the larger lamp on the table beside me.

  “Who says I am alone?” I replied, tilting the jug upside down and draining the remnants of the sour liquid. It was meru, a stale workman’s beer that I usually only drank when traveling with my men. I threw the jug down, sending shards of clay scattering around the room. The chained cat screamed in anger, and Kafta nearly dropped the lamp as he dashed out of its way.

  “Gods! Why is that animal in here?” The cat’s scream had sent the muscled man to the top of the table.

  Any other time I would have laughed at the sight, but this was no laughing matter. “Come down from there. She cannot reach you. She is on a chain.”

  “I see that, but I do not trust chains.”

  At that, I did laugh. “But you trust exploding barrels of fire? You are a strange man, Kafta.”

  “I am strange? I am not sitting in the dark getting drunk with a panther. Or is that a leopard? I do not care for cats.”

  “This is a panther. She belonged to Inhapi.”

  Kafta eased down from the table but stood no closer. “Come, brother. Let us go out to get some air. I see you drank all the meru. I have wine with me in my things. Come.”

  I stared bleary-eyed at the cat and then at Kafta. My eyes had grown used to the darkness. How long had I been sitting here? I could not remember, but it had been bright and sunny when I entered the animal’s prison. The cat screamed again, and I yelled back at her as if I were a beast. She began to pace her side of t
he room, and her cold eyes never left me. They were dark and shiny—like the eyes of my dead wife. I had seen hundreds of dead men, but the sight of Inhapi’s lifeless body lying on the priest’s table filled me with unexpected dread. Now that I had lost her, it was easy to recall the few happy times we shared. How proud I had been to claim her as my own. She had been beautiful and welcoming, at least when we first married. As I traveled, she became less welcoming, but how could I blame her?

  Inhapi had been shallow and silly at times, but she had put my name and my needs above everything else, mostly, and she worked tirelessly to see me elevated. She had not excited me as Ayn had, but she had been my partner in all things. I had betrayed her with the Meshwesh woman, and now Inhapi and my son were gone. It was true that Inhapi loved Tadukhipa, in ways I did not understand, but I knew that she had loved me too. Together we would see our names immortalized and find a place of prominence in this world and the next.

  “Inhapi,” I said, reaching my hand out to the cat’s head.

  “Stop that, fool! That cat is not your wife. You are indeed drunk, Ramose. Come, General of Egypt, before that animal tears into your hand. I can see she has not fed in a day or two. What are you trying to do? Feed yourself to the panther?”

  With a grunt, he snatched me up, a thing he would never have done if I had been sober. I followed him outside, cursing him under my breath, but the cool evening air did feel good on my skin. “I have a message to deliver, but I will not do so while you are out of your head—and smelling like a beast.” He led me to a trough of water. I didn’t remember ordering a bath, but before I knew it, I was falling into it. I sputtered and cursed as Kafta laughed. I was too drunk to climb out; all I could do was sit in the trough and yell at him.

  “Now, now, General. Why make such a fuss? Wash yourself, and I’ll set you a meal. I see there are no servants here now. Did you send them all away?” He spotted my houseboy, Axteris, and yelled for him. As he gave instructions to the boy, I managed to climb out of the trough and struggled to remove my clothing. The cold water had sobered me up some, but not as much as I would have liked. Soon Axteris had my bath prepared, and I followed him to clean myself properly. Kafta followed me, chewing on bread and some kind of roasted meat. I reached for the soap and a sponge and went to work. I rubbed my face with my wet hand, feeling the stubble on my chin. How long had it been since I shaved? Or bathed? Or eaten? Lost in my grief for Inhapi, I had lost all sense of time. I had been in a place of forgetting. Now my friend, likely my only friend, Kafta was calling me back to life. I knew I should be grateful, but at the moment I felt anything but gratitude.