Sphinx's Princess (15 page)

“If you say so, Lady Nefertiti,” he replied evenly. “With your permission, I will go.” He bowed low and backed out of the room, leaving me flustered and confused.

“Why did he do that, Henenu?” I asked.

My old friend wasn’t smiling anymore. “A royal servant knows that his fortune depends on keeping the favor of the most important people at court. That man enjoys a good job with plenty of privileges that other servants can only dream of. He doesn’t want to risk losing it.”

“Oh, so he’s treating me royally because of my aunt.” That made sense.

“You could say that.” His smile returned, twice as bright but strangely unreal. “Now tell me, dear Nefertiti, why are you traveling with this little harp player?”

I sat down in one of the chairs while Henenu assumed a scribe’s comfortable, cross-legged pose on the floor, and I told my old friend all about the high priest of Isis, the Festival of the Inundation, my nearly fatal accident, the bravery of the slave girl, Mahala, and how she’d paid for her courage. I spoke in a whisper, so that Berett wouldn’t have to hear about her sister’s cruel death again.

“How could he do such a thing?” I hissed, digging my fingernails into my palms in anger. “She wasn’t just an ordinary slave; she was a skilled musician! How could he destroy someone so talented just—just out
of spite?”

“Expensive
spite.” Henenu stroked his chin. “Strong, young, healthy,
and
a musician? She was worth a lot, that poor girl. He might as well have thrown a handful of jewels into the river.”

To throw away riches …
I thought. “Henenu, Father told me that the high priest’s family was poor and that he’s still afraid of falling back into poverty.” The scribe confirmed Father’s story with a nod. “Then something doesn’t fit. He might not spare Mahala’s life out of kindness, but to kill
her … He’d see that as a waste of someone—
something
—valuable.”

“If that’s true, my dear, then she must still be alive. But if you’re right, then … where is she?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But when we return to Akhmin I’m going to find out.” My heart beat faster at the thought that I might be right, that the high priest had let Mahala live for completely selfish reasons. And what did his reasons matter as long as she was still alive? I couldn’t wait for our visit, so newly begun, to be over. I had a great thing to accomplish, and I prayed fervently that the gods would show me the right road as soon as we went home.

“You don’t have to wait, Nefertiti,” Henenu said. “I could have one of my brightest students travel to Akhmin and begin asking questions on our behalf. I have at least one whom I’d trust enough to handle such a mission well.”

“I’d rather do it myself,” I responded. “I made a promise.…”

“As long as you find out the truth, it doesn’t matter who does the actual work of investigation. If you wait too long, the trail will get cold.” He spoke quickly and urgently, as if he weren’t making a friendly suggestion but instead were trying to convince me to do this his way.

“A few more days can’t make that much difference.”

“But—but you don’t know how long you’ll be staying here.” His eyes looked away from me. “The queen has waited a long time to reestablish good relations with your father. She’ll want to keep you—all of you—with her long enough to entertain you well. She might even want you to accompany the royal court back to Thebes, so that you can
enjoy the luxuries of the palace. Abydos is famous for its temples, not its lodgings. It can’t compare to Thebes.”

“I don’t think Father will want to do that,” I said, privately adding:
Neither do I. I need to go home.
“He’s got work to do. He can’t serve Pharaoh’s interests in Akhmin if he’s in Thebes. Even if the queen insists, Pharaoh’s word overrules her.”

Henenu sighed. “So young, and so sure that you know the way the world works.” He reached up and patted my hand. “You’re a strong-willed young woman, Nefertiti. I think that someday you might even be able to give our Great Royal Wife lessons in determination.”

With the ability that came from years of practice, he got to his feet in one elegant movement and walked over to where Berett was just beginning to pluck a fragile thread of melody from the strings of her harp. She startled when she realized he was watching her, but then he soothed her by humming the same tune she’d been playing. Her fingers rose to the harp again, faltered, then resumed their dance over the strings. The dwarf lifted his voice in song, setting words to the music, a fanciful story about a shepherd who fell in love with a star. He had a remarkably high, honeyed singing voice, very different from the deep notes that rumbled from his broad chest when he talked. I couldn’t sit still when so much beautiful music filled the air. I sprang from my chair and one after the other danced as the shepherd, the star he loved, and the goddess Hathor who lifted the faithful shepherd into the sky so that he and his beloved would be together forever.

When we all finished, Henenu smiled at Berett and
said, “I am a good friend of your mistress, Nefertiti. May I be your friend, too?” He cupped his hand as if he were offering her a drink of water. To my happy surprise, Berett didn’t hesitate: She nodded readily and touched Henenu’s hand lightly as a butterfly. For the first time, I saw the hint of a smile lift the corners of her mouth. Then the tall servant came barging back into my room, making his wooden staff thunder. Berett jumped straight up and dived under one of the chairs, letting her harp clatter and jangle to the floor.

“Greetings, my lady Nefertiti, may the gods favor you forever,” the man’s nasal voice pierced the air, as intrusive as he was. “It is the request of Queen Tiye, Great Royal Wife of the king, God’s Wife of Amun, mother of princes, radiant lady, most gracious in all things, infinitely lovely …” He went on like that for so long that I was beginning to wonder if there was a message from my aunt buried somewhere under all those grandiose titles. I looked at Henenu, expecting the scribe to share a secret grin and a wink with me, but my friend’s expression was dead serious. “… that you join your family and attend her at once.”

“I haven’t even had the chance to wash after my journey,” I said.

“Indeed?” Once again the servant’s brows rose to hide under his wig. “How unfortunate. There is no time for that now, my lady Nefertiti. Your parents and sister have already been conducted into the queen’s splendid and revered presence. If you will consent to come with me, it shall be my extraordinary honor to bring you to them.”

“Just a moment.” I squatted beside the chair where Berett cowered. “Come along, dear one. We have to go.”

“Oh no!” The tall servant reacted as though I’d announced my intention of finding a nice, fat cobra to drop in my aunt’s lap. “That is not acceptable. Your slave must remain here.”

“She’s not my—” I stopped. By law, Berett
was
still my slave. “She’s only a child, and she’s frightened,” I said instead. “I won’t leave her alone like this, in a strange place.”

The servant placed one hand over his heart and bowed, but it was only an automatic gesture, not a sign of surrender. “May you spare me your wrath and forgive me, my lady Nefertiti, but it is in the young slave’s best interests to remain in your rooms. The Great Royal Wife was quite specific when she issued the command—the request—that you come to her. No one shall be there except those people to whom she is related by blood or the kinship of marriage. She will be displeased if you come with your slave in tow.”

“Then she’ll be displeased,” I shot back.

Henenu’s hand closed on my wrist. “Nefertiti, if you don’t do as the queen wishes, her displeasure will fall on the child.”

I met his eyes and saw that he was speaking the harsh truth. Still, I had to object: “I can’t leave her here. She’ll be terrified!”

“I can stay with her. It will be all right. Go.” Henenu gave my wrist a brief powerful squeeze. “Don’t keep the queen waiting.”

I didn’t leave immediately. I wasn’t going to leave Berett without a word of farewell. I knelt swiftly beside her hiding place and said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Henenu will
look out for you. You’re safe here, Berett.
Safe.”
I stood up and turned to the servant. “Take me to my family.”

I followed him across the garden, past the open doorways to my family’s rooms. I couldn’t help peeking inside as we walked by. Was it a trick of the light or were my parents and sister lodged in much smaller, simpler quarters than me?
There must be some mistake
, I thought. My aunt must have wanted Father and Mery to have my room. I’m supposed to sleep in the chamber next to Bit-Bit’s. I’ll tell her.

We passed rows of pillars whose tops were made to look like blooming lotus flowers and walls inscribed with the story of Isis’s journey to return her dead husband to life. Osiris was murdered by his own brother, the evil god Set, ruler of the deserts of the Red Land, lord of destructive storms. He cut his brother into pieces and scattered them throughout the land, but Isis found them all. I paused before an especially beautiful image where the jackal-headed god Anubis, who taught us how to prepare the dead for their voyage to the Afterlife, bent over the reassembled body of Osiris, binding him back together with bandages.

“My lady Nefertiti, there will be plenty of time for you to see such things later,” the tall servant said. He sounded edgy. “Please, we are expected.”

I don’t know exactly where he took me. The building where we were lodged was a maze. Hall after hall and great room after great room seemed to open up before us until without warning, we crossed the final threshold and were in a chamber twice the size of my room. There were many narrow windows high on the walls, letting in stripes of light but
keeping out the worst of the day’s heat and the night’s cold. I saw my sister standing in one of the bars of sunshine and heard her call out, “Look, here she is! Nefertiti!” just as my guide bowed so low I thought his nose would brush his knees.

“O Majesty, lady of the north and the south, mother and wife of greatness,” he told the ground. “As you have commanded, so it is done. She is here.”

“So I see,” said a voice from the far end of the room. There was the dry rustling of fine linen, the flash of gold, and Queen Tiye rose into the light to greet me.

I stared at the small woman who stood before me. She was very beautiful, with a softly rounded face and the sweet expression of a happy child. Her graceful body was dressed in a sheath of delicately pleated linen with a short cape floating around her shoulders. Over this she wore a necklace of so many strands that it covered most of her chest with gold, carnelian, turquoise, and crystal beads. Its centerpiece was a gigantic blue scarab with outstretched multicolored wings. And a gold crown shaped like a vulture framed her face with its jeweled feathers.

Even if she’d been dressed as simply as a farmer’s wife, it was impossible
not
to stare at her. There was something about the way my aunt carried herself that demanded attention. I got the feeling that she had been exactly like this long before she married Pharaoh Amenhotep.
Born to be a queen
, I thought. I recalled all that Father had said about his sister—her ambition, her scheming, her way of using people—and
couldn’t make his words fit the pretty, soft-spoken little woman before me. Was this the same person he blamed for my mother’s death?

Then I remembered my manners and bowed.

“Stand up, my dear child.” Queen Tiye’s voice was warm and caressing. “We are all family here. Or
will
be.” She looked meaningly at the tall servant, who promptly scurried from the room. Satisfied, Queen Tiye smiled and motioned for me to approach her. Her large brown eyes shone with affection as she embraced me. Her skin was soft and luminous, scented with a haunting, spicy perfume that also clung to the tightly curled short wig under her crown.

“So you are Nefertiti,” she said. Her eyes never left mine, yet I still felt as though she was looking me over from top to toe and evaluating everything about me. “What a foolish woman I’ve been, to have delayed this meeting for so many years. Your mother was one of my dearest friends; did you know that?”

I nodded, unsure of how else to respond. She was my aunt but also my queen. Was I supposed to call her Aunt Tiye or Queen Tiye or try to come up with a string of praise-names like the tall servant had used? Indecision left me silent.

She laughed and lifted my chin a little with the fingertips of her right hand. “Oh, such a joy! The resemblance is incredible. It’s as if she were still alive. You don’t look like your father at all, praise the gods.” Her tone made it clear that she was teasing her brother.

“That seems to be the way it works in our family,” Father answered genially. “Mutnodjmet doesn’t resemble me,
either, and you never looked anything like our father, Tiye. What about your own children? Do the girls favor you or their father?”

“You’ll have to judge that for yourself when you meet them, Ay, though most people claim that all four of them look like me.” A skeptical smile touched her lips. “More beautiful than Hathor, as charming as Isis, and so on and so forth. The magnificence of our beauty is determined by the size of the favors our flatterers come seeking.” She cradled my face with both hands this time and added: “At least when people tell you that you are lovely, dear Nefertiti, you’ll know they mean it.”