The Egyptian Royals Collection (87 page)

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

A
HMOSES OF
C
HALDEA

                  
FOR TWO MONTHS
, the gates of Malkata Palace were strewn with flowers, so that whenever we rode out to see the progress of the Ramesseum, the guards had to clear a path for the horses. Iset would descend from her chariot, and no one would speak as she chose the prettiest flower for her hair, reminding everyone that she had borne and lost the first prince of Egypt.

In Paser’s chamber, Woserit paced the tiles and demanded, “When will this be over? Every day flowers are burying the gates and women are weeping in the Temple of Hathor. She lost an infant, not twin eighteen-year-old princes!”

“And now there’s news that she’s with child again,” I revealed. “Merit heard it in the baths.”

Woserit turned to Paser, “Before Iset has another child,” she said irritably, “we must make the people understand that Nefertari is Ramesses’s choice for queen. What’s wrong with them? She speaks eight languages and has impressed every emissary from Assyria to Rhodes.”

“They still remember the Heretic King,” Paser replied. “They hear their grandparents speak of the days when the gods were banished and Amun turned his back on Egypt by bringing us plague. But I have intercepted messages from Nubia that speak of a second rebellion. And if Pharaoh Ramesses leaves with his army, Nefertari will be left to rule in his stead.”

“It will be your opportunity to show the people how you would govern,” Woserit said eagerly.

“
No!”

Paser and Woserit both stared at me.

“Ramesses promised to take me on his next campaign. Who will be of more help to him?” I demanded. “A Nubian translator or
me?
”

“You are carrying Ramesses’s child,” Woserit said. “Are you willing to risk his likely heir? There would be no litters. You would travel through the desert entirely by chariot, and water would be scarce. This rebellion may be your only chance to prove at court that you will not be another Heretic Queen.”

I looked down at the small swell of my stomach. If Ramesses left me in Thebes, would I be able to change the people’s hearts, or would they call my child a heretic as well?

Paser sat forward in his carved wooden chair. “Do not suggest that you go with him. There’s nothing more important than the health of this child.”

“And Iset?” I asked quietly. “If Ramesses doesn’t declare a Chief Wife, would we both rule jointly in the Audience Chamber?”

Woserit raised her sharp brows. “Yes. Which would be very interesting.”

THAT NIGHT
, Ramesses crept away from Iset, bringing me the scrolls that Paser had seized from a captured Nubian merchant. We sat together on the balcony, and I translated letter after careless letter detailing a rebellion that was planned for the first of Mesore, when the heat was so brutal that Egypt’s soldiers were unlikely to travel very far south.

“They have more than a thousand men,” I confirmed, “who are willing to overtake the palace and kill the Egyptian viceroy.”

“So Paser was correct.” Ramesses stood from his chair and looked out over the balcony. An early summer’s breeze bore the scent of lavender, and the chirp of insects from the dark gardens below. If Ramesses left, there was no telling when he might return, or what might happen in his absence.

“I must write to my father and speak with my generals,” he announced. “In a month, I will lead Egypt’s charioteers into Napata and remind Nubia to whom she owes her allegiance.” When he saw the look on my face, his voice faltered. “You could come.” He hesitated, and we both looked down at my three-month belly.

“No. It would be too dangerous,” I said, rising to join him. But we both knew what I wanted. Ramesses took my hand and we stared into the night, listening to the wind as it eased through the boughs of the sycamore trees.

“I will return to you safely,” he promised. “And if I ever leave again, you will come. Even if it’s to the farthest reaches of Assyria.”

I laughed miserably. “And how would I survive?”

“I would have the army carry you by litter. They would bear you across the desert like Amun’s shrine.” When my laughter was genuine, he smiled. “While I’m gone, I want you to oversee the building. Luxor is finished, but there is Nubian gold and shiploads of ebony bound for the Ramesseum. There’s no one else I trust.”

“What about Iset?”

“She can’t oversee the Ramesseum,” he dismissed. “Perhaps the Feast of Wag. But in the Audience Chamber, if there’s something she doesn’t understand, Nefer, you will help her, won’t you? I don’t want foreign emissaries to think she’s a fool.”

Too late,
I thought sharply, holding my smile. “Of course I will.”

IN THE
hours before dawn, a flotilla of ships crowded the bay, while Asha ushered the charioteers aboard. A month had passed since Ramesses had learned of the plot for rebellion in Nubia, and now two thousand men, with their weapons and horses, shouted farewells from the vessels to their wives and children. On the quay, Ramesses cupped my chin in his palm.

“Sometimes, I forget how small you are,” he said tenderly. “Promise that you’ll let Merit take care of you. Listen to what she tells you while I’m gone, even if you don’t like it. There are two of you now to watch over.”

I looked down at my small stomach and wondered if Tawaret would abandon me in childbirth the way she had abandoned my mother. Perhaps if I lit incense every day and reminded her that I was the Heretic’s
niece
, not the Heretic’s daughter, she would forgive the crimes of my
akhu.
Or would my prayers only attract their attention, and bring Anubis back to stalk the palace once more? “I will listen,” I assured him.

The sound of trumpets pierced the morning air, and the priestesses of Hathor joined with Isis in shaking their sistrums and singing a hymn to Sekhmet, the lion-goddess of war.

Ramesses made his way to Iset and kissed her briefly, then he came back to me. “I will return before the month is over,” he swore.

We watched the fleet as it worked its way through the channel, and then slowly upstream. When the last pennant had disappeared, Woserit took my arm and led me through the doors of the palace. In the Audience Chamber, the court took its place while musicians played “The Song of Sekhmet.” I had thought I was prepared for Ramesses to leave, but at the sight of his empty throne on the dais, I drew an uneven breath.

“This is an opportunity,” Woserit said bracingly as we crossed the chamber.

“What if the people return?” I worried. “What if they shout
Heretic
at the gates?”

“Then four hundred guards will be here to protect you. The greater threat is in the Temple of Isis. Think of what my sister could do if her temple became the largest in Thebes! Pilgrims from all across Egypt would leave their gold at her shrines. If Henuttawy and Rahotep were to use their resources collectively, they would be wealthy enough to tell Ramesses which wars should be waged and which monuments should be built. Why do you think the Heretic abolished the priestship of Amun? He was willing to risk the wrath of the gods to destroy such rivals to his power.”

“Why doesn’t Ramesses see what Henuttawy is after?”

“Why should he? My sister is his beloved aunt. The one who taught him how to balance the
khepresh
crown on his head and to write his name in hieroglyphics as a child. Would he believe me if I told him what she really wants?”

With that, she left the Audience Chamber, her long blue robes swishing across the tiled floor. The turquoise jewels of the goddess Hathor encircled her arms, and I wished I looked so tall and splendid. Like Henuttawy and Iset, she commanded the chamber, but as the heavy doors swung shut in her wake, I noticed that the room was nearly empty. “Where is everyone?” I exclaimed.

Rahotep turned in his chair. “Who is
everyone?
”

My neck grew hot beneath my wig. “Where is Iset? Where is the rest of the court?”

“Preparing for the Feast of Wag,” he said dismissively.

“Doesn’t she plan to hear the petitioners?” I demanded.

Rahotep raised his brow. “I suppose she will come when she is ready.”

The musicians kept playing. They would play until the herald announced the petitioners. I sat on my throne and felt the heat creep from my neck into my cheeks. The entire court was attending Iset; the only courtiers who had remained with me were the old men playing Senet in the back of the chamber. Gone was the pretty laughter of noblemen’s daughters. Even the girls from the edduba, who had never liked Iset, were missing.
They all believe she is the future of Egypt.

I struck Ramesses’s golden crook on the dais. “Bring forth the petitioners,” I announced.

Three men approached the viziers’ table, but only two held out written petitions. The third gripped a wooden staff in his hands. His long beard was the milky color of moringa blossoms. I tried to guess what his language might be, as only foreigners wear hair on their faces.

“Where is your petition?” Paser demanded.

The bearded man shook his head. “It is for the princess Nefertari alone.”

“And while the princess may eventually read your petition, it will go through me first.” Paser held out his hand, but the old man was firm.

“It is for the princess Nefertari alone,” he repeated.

Paser exhaled impatiently. “Send this man away!”