“My dear Temehu,” Ay whispered to his wife’s lifeless body as he knelt beside her.
The maidservants heard the mournful whisper and stepped back, bowing their heads. Ay caressed his wife’s cheek. Wanting to melt into her and wail at his great loss, he only kissed her painted face. He examined her beauty, even in death, holding back his every cry, every tear, every tormenting ache.
Finally he said, “Prepare the burial. We will send the best we have with her in the afterlife.” He wished the servants would leave so he could be with her alone.
As if reading his mind, Tey motioned for the others to leave. She placed a hand on Ay’s shoulder and whispered, “I will make the arrangements.”
She followed the servant boy out as he closed the door behind them. At its close, Tey could sense Ay’s pain through the walls. She held Nefertiti close to her heart and buried her head into the child’s wriggling warmth. With tears streaming down her face, she whispered, “Your mother was loved . . . and so you will be, the daughter of Ay.”
IN THE COMING MONTHS, Ay buried his wife with honor and dignity. Because he blamed his newborn daughter for taking away his precious Temehu, he had only seen her the one time, not even looking at her since Tey first brought her to him. He didn’t even know her name.
Instead, he spent his days in his chair by the window, meditating on the past. His favorite recollection always came to mind: the lotus garden in the courtyard . . . Temehu, bent over with a sly smirk on her face . . . him, trying to balance himself on the balls of his feet but falling backward into the dirt. Her subsequent joyous, hearty laugh rang throughout his memory.
He and Temehu had tried for so long to have a child, and the one child they had together took her life away. And was the child worth it? he thought. He wished the child had died instead.
Queen Tiye, Ay’s older sister, always looked out for him, knowing when and how to comfort him in his days of sorrow. She had sent her regards to his now seemingly small household and had even come herself on the morning of Temehu’s send-off into the afterlife. Ay faintly smiled at that memory.
Tey interrupted his thoughts as she came and stood at a respectable distance from him. In her arms she held the cause of Temehu’s demise.
Ay sighed and turned his head away from her. “Leave me, Tey.”
“Scribe of Pharaoh,” Tey said, “your daughter needs you . . . just as you need her.”
Ay stood and pointed at the bundle Tey held. “I need Temehu! Not that girl!”
Tey persisted. “And Temehu is gone. Your daughter remains. Temehu died for this child. She wanted this child. Will you let her death be in vain?”
Her heart pulsed in her voice and behind her eyes. He clearly was not the only one hurting. Ay went to slap her, but refrained and dropped his hand as she didn’t flinch or bat an eye. She knew she was right, and now she knew he did too.
They stood almost toe to toe, and finally, Ay dropped his guard and found the strength to look upon his daughter for the second time in her short life.
“What is her name?” he asked.
“Temehu named her Nefertiti. The beautiful one is come,” Tey whispered, glancing down at the baby. “Her last moments were smiling because she recognized this child would be her legacy. She loved your child and had only met her for such a short time. Will you love her as Temehu would have wanted?”
As Tey spoke and Nefertiti cooed, Ay’s hatred for the girl melted. He reached out his hand and his daughter wrapped her small hand around his finger. Large, dark almond eyes beamed up at him. A perfect nose wrinkled in laughter at his touch. Tiny, cherry-rose lips parted into an open smile.
“It seems I was blind to what Temehu saw,” he said and smiled at this lovely creature, the last living memory of his chief wife. “The beautiful one is come . . . my Nefertiti.”
Tey brought the child closer to her father, and he took her in his arms. At that moment, she captured his aching heart. “Oh Nefertiti,” he whispered. “My heart floated adrift when Temehu died, but now you have found it and stolen it back. You will honor your mother with elegance and charm, and you will dignify her death in the woman you will become.”
Tey smiled at the gentleness of Ay’s voice. Most fathers of his stature refused to hold their children, as it was not fit for a man, but Tey could tell Ay loved the women in his life more than others. Tey placed her hand on his forearm and said, “She will do much more than that.”
Ay smiled at his young daughter as he pondered those words. He appreciated the kind touch of his new daughter’s wet nurse. Not rebuking her for touching him, he instead looked to her with a warm smile on his face. Although he held back his words of gratitude for bridging his hate and love for Nefertiti, Ay realized it was the greatest joy he had felt since Temehu’s passing.
“She will do so much more,” Tey repeated in a whisper.
CHAPTER 2
THE TIME OF REBIRTH
The sun rose and set beyond the great horizon, and Nefertiti grew with each passing day. Ay grew alongside his child: his shoulders gradually became upright once again, the dark circles under his eyes diminished, and the restless nights faded. His heart’s wounds began to heal. Although Temehu always occupied his heart and always would, he found comfort in Tey’s encouraging words, and her plainly attractive appearance and loving embrace for his daughter.
Some days would dawn and set without a single thought of Temehu. When he remembered as he lay down next to the empty pillow, he would hate himself, and the pain of losing her would come rushing back.
But Tey was always there to help him back to his feet. She grew increasingly more bold with him until one evening, when she was reporting on Nefertiti’s day, he leaned in and kissed her. She had just finished a funny story of Nefertiti playing in the dirt, and her small chuckles had put light in his soul. He surprised himself with the kiss and sharply stood back, but Tey, now more comfortable and even more emboldened, naturally took his hand and leaned in for another kiss.
Four years after Temehu’s death and Nefertiti’s birth, Ay married Tey and made her his chief and only wife. With Tey, he fathered two more children, and his heart finally felt full once more.
NEFERTITI REMINDED Ay more of Temehu in face and mind as she aged into a young woman of thirteen. Her laugh was deep and hearty, like that of her mother. When she was especially confident, the back of her hand rested somewhat under her chin and a sly smile crept on her face.
The only child of Ay’s who followed him everywhere he went and where she was allowed to go, Nefertiti found special favor with her father. She fixated on reading her father’s plans and documents for managing the horses and scribes of Pharaoh. Every night as she fell asleep, she told Ay she wanted to be just like him tomorrow.
Ay would laugh, rub her half-bald head, watch her sidelock braid shake about, kiss her cheek, and whisper, “I know you will, my Nefertiti.”
Her half-sisters perfumed their bodies and had their servant girls paint their faces, but Nefertiti did not need to paint her face to receive favorable glances. Her cheekbones rose as high as the great tombs built by Pharaohs Khufu and Khafre; her eyes were so big and dark, some would say even the sunlight got lost in them. Unbeknownst to all, she savored her one little secret of biting her lips to give them their full illustrious cherry red glow to continue to amaze her admirers.
QUEEN TIYE NOTICED Nefertiti’s beauty every time she visited her brother or when Ay brought Nefertiti to see her children at the palace. “Your daughter,” she said to Ay at her last visit, “Nefertiti, would make a lovely statue for all of Egypt—and the world after—to see. Her beauty, captured alongside my son, the Crown Prince Thutmose, forever and always, would bring admiration to his reign.”
“I am honored,” Ay said with a humble bow of his head. “I will give to you my first daughter, my beautiful one, Nefertiti, in marriage to the Crown Prince.”
“As well as be a symbol of dignity when it comes to . . .” She trailed off, ending the royal forma
lity of her words. “Before you agree, my brother, she will need to be strong.”
“Tiye, what do mean?” Ay asked. “She is of strong mind and body, and will be able to bear children.”
“No, Ay . . .” Queen Tiye looked around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, and with a low whisper, continued, “The Amun-Re priesthood has grown very powerful. The priesthood holds more power and influence than Pharaoh himself.”
“More power than Pharaoh?” Ay asked, not wanting to insult his sister with his doubt but incredulous all the same.
“Yes, Ay,” Queen Tiye said. “Nefertiti will need to sway the people to Pharaoh, away from the priesthood. If the First Prophet of Amun dies when Pharaoh Amenhotep III still reigns, he and I will begin the transition of power, but as Meryptah lives, the principal power remains with him. He may outlive us, and so we need Nefertiti and Thutmose to be prepared to take the burden. Our royal court knows it, but I only tell you this because if what you tell me of Nefertiti is true, Egypt will need her as its next Queen.”
“Nefertiti is all that I have spoken. Such aptitude for learning . . . Her mind bears no equal, and she would willingly die for Egypt. Her loyalty knows no bounds.”
“Then will you still hand her over, brother? It may be dangerous. She may die by revolt of the people.”
“If she dies by the revolt of the people, then Egypt is no longer the home I want.” Ay bit down hard on his bottom teeth. “When the land resorts to violence to rid itself of its divine ruler, the country is already gone.”
“Good. They will marry when Thutmose is named Coregent.” Queen Tiye smiled, but her eyes were dim. Her brother spoke the truth; she hoped Egypt, with all its wealth and riches, could survive this transition of power.
Their older brother, Anen, suddenly came into Ay’s home. His calf-length pleated shendyt tied with a blue ornate sash that hung off of his right side swished as he stepped inside. At the sight of the Queen, he bowed to pay his respects. The leopard-skin imitation that hung across the left side of his body stretched from the weight of the plaster leopard head swinging forward just below his waist. His bald head shimmered with fresh perfumed oil as he returned from his bow. “Ah, is it not my noble brother and my Queenly sister!”
“Anen, Second Prophet of Amun, what brings you to my home?” Ay said with a slight nod of respect, but a harrowing weight set upon his brow. Anen had never come to Ay’s home before, and it looked like he had just freshly shaved his body to present himself to the Queen. It could just be it is his month in the four phyles to serve in the temples, Ay thought. Perhaps that is why he is not wearing his headdress.
With a smile as wide as the Nile, Anen bowed once more to his sister. “What reason need there be? I wish to see my family, and I heard the Queen was in company.”
“Please, come, sit with us.” Queen Tiye offered a nearby chair.
He obliged, and his eyes shot daggers at his younger brother. “Now, pardon my discourtesy, but I overheard talk of marriage?”
Queen Tiye and Ay exchanged glances. What all did he hear? Queen Tiye feared he would take such eavesdropping back to his priesthood of Amun; the lives of the royal family may be in danger.
In Queen Tiye’s silence, Ay responded, “Yes indeed, brother.”
Tiye added with a curt nod, “Nefertiti will marry the next Pharaoh.”
“Ah, I see. In that case, may I be so bold as to suggest one of my four daughters for marriage to the Crown Prince?” Anen said this as he sat flipping a coin through his fingers. “They rival the grace of Nefertiti in both face and body.”
“But do they have her mind?” Ay asked. Blood raised to his cheeks. How dare he take this from my Nefertiti! The Queen has already decided.
“I am the oldest brother of our family. One of my daughters should be given the privilege—nay, the right—to marry the Crown Prince,” Anen said with an increasing audaciousness. “In addition, I serve the god Amun. The Crown Prince would do well if he aligned himself with the priesthood.”
“I serve the Pharaoh of Egypt,” Ay said, “the divinely appointed one to lead us into greatness. The Crown Prince would do well if he aligned himself—”
“Enough, brothers,” Queen Tiye said, quieting the room without raising a finger. “Brother Anen, your daughters are all very beautiful in both face and body, but even in sum they cannot rival the natural beauty of Nefertiti. Her mind is as equal as her image, and your daughters, do what they may, will never rival her privilege, her right, to marry my son, the Crown Prince, the next Pharaoh of Egypt. She will forever sit by his side with her beauty immortalized in stone.” Queen Tiye spoke with such a sharpness of tongue, Ay thought his brother would fall over dead from the strike.
Anen silenced for a moment as he pulled his body tight and straightened his back. “Sister, come now. The priesthood of Amun is powerful. I would hate to find the heir to the throne at such a disadvantage of having spat in the face of Amun’s Second Prophet.”
The snake’s threat lingered in the air as Queen Tiye slowly breathed in its venom.
“Brother, there should be no disrespect to our great priesthood of Amun-Re, and relations should remain the same. I only try to persuade you due to my son’s great admiration of Nefertiti and his wish to make her his chief wife.” The half-truth easily slid from her lips. “The Crown Prince has a right to choose his wife, and he has chosen Nefertiti because of her unsurpassable beauty.”
Anen slowly stood and with a tight jaw whispered, “As the Crown Prince wishes, my Queen.” He bowed to his sister a third time and nodded to his brother. “Forgive the brevity of my stay. I have remembered there are other matters that need tending.” He slowly bowed a fourth time to his sister and left Ay’s home.
As he left, a deep pain descended into the depths of Anen’s soul. I am the elder sibling. Tiye has brought a slap to my face and insult to my family, he thought. He mounted his horse and rode off toward the Nile with his company.
I will seek counsel with Pawah. At least one of my four daughters will be Queen of Egypt.
“WE ARE SETTLED THEN,” Queen Tiye said after Anen’s departure. “Nefertiti will marry the Crown Prince Thutmose when he is named Coregent at the Pharaoh’s third upcoming sed festival,” Queen Tiye commanded.
“Yes, my Queen,” Ay said with a deep bow.
“And remember, brother Ay: Nefertiti needs to know the burden she will face, but in due time. You may make her aware, but she is to discuss this with no one. When she is ready, Pharaoh and I will advise her and Thutmose.”
“Yes, my Queen,” Ay said again, nodding his head.
The deal in hand, Queen Tiye left with her servants and guards toward her barge, the Aten-tjehen, to the city of Men-nefer to tell her eldest son the good news.
NEFERTITI WATCHED from the window as her aunt stepped into the sunlight, a slave girl on either side shading Queen Tiye with a palm branch. Walking down the stairs to her father’s office, Nefertiti thought to herself, She is so regal. I wish to be like her someday.
“Father?” she asked, knocking on his half-open door.
“Yes, my lotus blossom?”
Nefertiti sauntered into his library. She sat and gently placed the back of her hand under her chin and looked up at her father with her big almond eyes. “My aunt and uncle did not stay long. What did they have to say?”
He looked at her for a moment, reminding himself Temehu was not with him anymore. Busying himself with the scrolls on his table, he said, “Why are you interested in the events of your elders?”
“Because one day I will be an elder,” Nefertiti said with her half smile. Her head tilted off-center.
Ay’s conversations with his sister jumped to the forefront of his mind. Tiye was right . . . her unsurpassable beauty will be the most perfect image carved into Pharaoh’s palace.
Ay could never be upset with his firstborn daughter even when her curiosity got the best of her, hard though he tried. He always welcomed Nefertiti, whatever she asked of him.
Her swanlike neck, her striking face, and her laugh—especially her laugh—he would always say reminded him of her mother.
“Yes, Nefertiti, one day you will be an elder. A very important elder.” He paused, unsure how to tell her of her upcoming marriage and the burden she would soon carry. The sun caught him in the eye as he turned to glance out the courtyard window. He filled his lungs with the blossoms’ scents. “Come, Nefertiti. Walk with me in the garden.”
“Yes, Father!” Nefertiti exclaimed. It was a rare occasion she was invited to walk alone with her father in the garden. It most certainly meant he had something important to tell her, and he usually let her hold his hand while they walked.
“My lotus blossom,” Ay said. She grabbed his hand as they stepped into the sun. “The Crown Prince Thutmose has chosen you to be his chief wife. Queen Tiye came here to tell me of the marriage.”
Nefertiti smiled brightly. “Oh, that is wonderful, Father!”
She had expected such news to come sooner rather than later. Thutmose had held a special place in her heart since they were children. She had feigned interest in her father’s work at the palace only to meet with her cousin. Whispering in the hallways about their dreams and plans for the future, they recognized they were meant for each other. Thutmose regarded her for more than just her pretty face—he appreciated her for who she was.
Happiness overjoyed her soul at their future, and she looked forward to standing by him as his chief royal wife. Pharaoh adored Thutmose, and she perceived she would be favored in his sight since she was now to wed his heir. She dropped Ay’s hand and practiced walking down the throne room there in the garden. “I can’t wait! I will be the best Queen and the best wife for Thutmose.”
“Nefertiti . . .” Ay said, not wanting to dispel his daughter’s excitement.
“Yes, Father?” The sparkle left her eyes at the sound of his voice.
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