The Sekhmet Bed (16 page)

“
Is Mutnofret receiving visitors?”

“
Yes, Great Lady. Please come in.” The woman stood aside, bowing. Mutnofret’s antechamber was small, but richly decorated. Certainly Ahmose’s servants had picked through the best of the wedding gifts for her own rooms, but what was left to Mutnofret was not lacking in lush beauty. An intimate seating area was arranged in one corner, the walls above the chairs and table hung with fascinating paintings on red linen: stories of the goddesses, illustrated by a skilled hand. A tray with the leavings of a meal had yet to be cleared away. There were several bowls. Mutnofret must have just been entertaining a group of friends. Ahmose waited in the center of the chamber, fists on her hips, while Sitamun gathered up the tray and straightened the furniture.

After a long time, Mutnofret drifted out of her bed chamber. She was dressed beautifully, in a new yellow gown that clung to her, accentuating her swollen breasts. Her wig was heavily beaded in gold; it framed her face with an aura of light. “Sister,” she said, smiling.

“
I came to tell you, Mutnofret. Our husband has returned.”

“
Oh, that’s wonderful news.” Mutnofret did not sound surprised. Ahmose wondered how she’d known so soon. “I suppose we should go to see him, then. But you look a proper mess. Let’s tidy you up before we go.”

Ahmose was a mess indeed. She’d been on her feet all day, walking in her garden, plucking leaves absently, tossing bread crumbs to birds, while she thought of power and sons, of thrones and priests. Her gown was wrinkled, her face dry with the afternoon’s dust. Mutnofret took her hand and led her into the bed chamber, sat her down at the dressing table.

“
You need to look the part, little sister,” Mutnofret said. There was no malice in her voice. Once more she spoke as if there had never been any rift between them.
It’s the baby in her.
It gives her assurance. She thinks I am no threat so long as I remain a virgin. But she is wrong.

She set out a bowl, filled it with water from a pitcher, and unstopped a jar of soap. Ahmose washed, scooping the myrrh-scented soap into her hands, scrubbing the day’s thoughts away.

“
A queen is expected to be pretty and perfect all the time.” Mutnofret drizzled oil into a pot, stirred in malachite powder. She whipped it into a paste, dipped a small brush, and gently painted Ahmose’s eyelids. “Make yourself beautiful and your husband will always love you.”

“
You know all about being beautiful,” Ahmose said. She couldn’t keep a touch of jealousy from her voice.

Mutnofret reached for the kohl pot. She didn’t hesitate, but Ahmose saw a quick spark flare and die in Mutnofret’s eye. Then the kohl brush was coming at her; Ahmose closed her eyes and allowed Mutnofret to line them.

“
It’s a thing you can learn, too, Ahmose. You really should take more care of your appearance if you’re to be queen.”

I
am
queen
, Ahmose thought. She said nothing.

Mutnofret applied the rouge to her cheeks, then oiled her lips and dusted them with rouge, too. “Don’t lick it all off.”

Ahmose smiled at her. “How do I look?”

“
You need another dress. Let’s go back to your rooms and I’ll help you choose one.”

It was the first time Mutnofret had been in the apartments of the Great Royal Wife since they passed to Ahmose. She looked around at the opulence, the soaring space at least twice as wide and high as her own rooms. Mutnofret’s face remained blank but for a muscle that twitched once, twice, in her jaw.

To keep her sister’s mood light, Ahmose joked and gossiped as she led Mutnofret to the wardrobe. They sorted through Ahmose’s garments, Nofret casting some aside and placing others into a neat stack. Finally, she picked through the stack, considering each weave, and at last held up a bright blue dress of thin linen. It was nearly as thin as the one Mutnofret had worn to their wedding feast. Ahmose blushed. She only ever wore this one about her apartments on warm days. She would never even consider going out into the palace dressed in this gown.

“
It’s awfully thin,” she said in a small voice.

“
Of course it is! Your body is starting to develop, Ahmose.” Mutnofret sounded less than enthusiastic about it. “You should show it to our husband.”

“
All right.”

Mutnofret knew what she was doing, surely. With Thutmose’s child inside her, the Second Queen thought she had no more need of tricks. And this help with dressing – Ahmose truly looked beautiful now, not like a child at all. It was almost as if Nofret was making amends for her deception at the wedding feast. Ahmose stood still while her sister tied the dress, adjusting it two or three times so it draped just so, both revealing and concealing the features of her body. Her breasts, her hips were like brown stones under flowing water, to be glimpsed and hidden again by the wash of blue. She took a few shaky breaths while Mutnofret stood back to look her over.

“
Some jewels, I think. Where are they?”

Ahmose pointed to her jewel boxes, stacked neatly against one wall. Mutnofret’s eyebrows rose; perhaps Ahmose had more than she did. But all the same, Nofret rummaged through them until she found the right pieces to complement the blue dress.

“
Now you look a queen,” she said quietly, fastening a necklace of overlapping gold leaves.

“
Thank you, Nofret.”

Mutnofret’s answering smile was sad, but sincere.

***

Ahmose couldn’t force herself to sit still in the litter. The ride from the palace to the water steps was too long, too stifling in the confines of the loose-weave curtains. She craned her neck this way and that, watching the bustle of Waset distort and blur through the linen. There was a certain energy in the streets, shouting, hurrying. Ahmose wanted to be outside the litter, skipping through the alleys and merchants’ stalls, calling out her joy with the rekhet. The king had returned. Kush was defeated. Egypt was victorious.

Mutnofret sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, watching straight ahead as if the curtains weren’t there at all. Ahmose eyed her sister’s face, but could think of nothing to say, and held her tongue. In a moment, though, Mutnofret’s chin lifted slightly; her lips curved with the smallest touch of a smile. Ahmose squinted through the litter at the road in front of them. It swept downhill to the moorings. There were fish-sellers’ booths here, boat-renters and children leading cattle to water. The pungent smell of the waterfront invaded the litter. Ships rocked against their restraints like horses impatient to run. One, painted white and blue with a massive upswept prow, was surely Tut’s own war vessel; but through the linen Ahmose could see nothing more of it than a confusion of color and slashing shapes.

Mutnofret’s smile turned into a low, melodious laugh.

“
What?” Ahmose said. “What do you see?”

“
Look harder, little sister.”

Ahmose leaned forward, crooked a finger around the edge of the curtain. She drew it back just a bit, so a gap of unmuddled waterfront opened in front of her face. The great white-and-blue hulk must be Thutmose’s – it was the largest ship on the river. But something strange, long and dark, was affixed to the prow. Ahmose stared. It was a tree trunk with gnarled, brittle limbs. No – she truly saw it now. Not a tree, but a man’s body, dark and naked, desiccated, twisted. She gasped and let the curtain fall.

“
Our husband is a true warrior,” Mutnofret said.

“
Horrible!”

“
This is war, Ahmose,” she said quietly. “People do horrible things when they are at war.”

Ahmose didn’t dare look at her sister’s face. She swallowed hard, and sat back on her cushions while the litter crept toward the river.

***

Thutmose met them at the head of the water steps. Ahmose walked to him as calmly as she could, took his hand in both of hers and kissed his fingers again and again. Oh, how she had missed him, their chariot rides, their conversations over dinner. She would not look at the prow of the ship. Her gentle, kind husband could never have hung a man’s body there. She would not look at it. She would not.

Mutnofret approached down the steps, her ladies trailing behind. She extended her hand to Thutmose. He took it gently. The second queen looked into his eyes and laid a hand on her stomach.

“
Well.” He took Mutnofret by the shoulders. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

She blushed a pretty shade and covered her mouth, laughing lightly. “I’ve made offerings, so we will have a son.”

Tut shook his head, grinning, both hands stroking up and down Mutnofret’s arms as if she were a pet cat. “What news, what news! Nothing better to follow a war victory than a son on the way. When will he arrive?”

“
Just a bit more than five moons.”

“
Come,” Tut said. The great royal litter had arrived. Twelve soldiers, strong and tall, lowered it to the ground. Ahmose climbed inside gratefully. Her face flushed hot at the look in Tut’s eyes, the brightness of his eyes on Mutnofret’s body. Tut told them amusing stories of his expedition all the way back to the palace, and the three of them laughed together. But Ahmose was keenly aware of how Tut leaned toward Mutnofret, how his left hand was busy stroking at her neck while his right lay still on Ahmose’s own knee. She all but ran from the litter when they were within the palace’s walls again, and ground her teeth together when Tut invited her – and Mutnofret, of course – to his chamber. She ground her teeth, but she forced a smile.

Inside his lush chambers, freshly scrubbed and scented with the sweet smoke of myrrh and bundles of fresh herbs, they sat together on Tut’s long, low couch, the Pharaoh between the sisters, and shared their news. Tut told them of the battles, the journey, the treacherous travel through the white-water cataracts of Upper Egypt, the strange customs of Buhen. Mutnofret shared her pregnancy symptoms: sickness in the morning, and strange cravings. She had her eye on several young serving women with big bellies who might make suitable wet nurses for the prince, and these she discussed with Thutmose at great length. For Ahmose’s part, she had nothing to share but a few unusual dreams she’d read, and the disputes she’d adjudicated in her husband’s absence.

There was something she could share with Tut alone, though. When Mutnofret excused herself to the privy, she leaned in close to Tut’s ear. “Let’s go riding soon. Or take the boat out on the lake. Just you and me.”

His eyes wandered down to her chest, and she shifted her shoulders, unsure whether she intended to show or hide her breasts from his view. He licked his lips.

“
You’ve changed since I’ve been gone, Ahmoset.” There was the shadow of a question in his words.

“
Just to ride,” she said quickly. “I meant, just to…”

He patted her hand. “Yes, all right. We’ll go riding as soon as I get the chance.”

“
Tonight! I’ve missed you so.”

Tut barked his laugh, a sound that made her bite her lips to hide her foolish smile. “Eager! Well, I confess I could use a good, swift chariot ride after all the time I’ve spent on a boat.” Mutnofret returned, golden, ripe; she remained standing, smiling at Thutmose, one coy hand playing with a braided strand of her wig. “I’ll come see you later tonight, Ahmoset, and we’ll take that ride.”

Ahmose’s face fell. Was she being dismissed? Perhaps Tut needed to rest or eat. The journey must have been very hard, in the heat of the day. “Yes, of course. Mutnofret, let’s leave our husband to rest.”

Mutnofret laughed, a low, hollow sound. She cut her eyes toward Ahmose, a look that said,
stupid child.
Tut was at Mutnofret’s side now, cat-petting her bare arms again, without so much as a glance for Ahmose. Nofret stared steadily at her over Tut’s shoulder. There was a fire of victory in her eyes, a desperate greed, a reveling.
Your body may be changing,
those eyes said,
but I am still the one he wants.

Ahmose backed toward the chamber doors. She didn’t break Mutnofret’s gaze until Tut kissed her neck, and Nofret’s eyes closed.