The Sekhmet Bed (20 page)

If Nofret could not do this thing – Nofret, the brave one, the brash one – then what woman could? Dizziness took hold of Ahmose’s head. She clutched at something hard and steady – the back of one of the chairs. Her legs trembled.

“
Come, Great Lady, come,” the midwife said to Mutnofret, easing her toward the pavilion where death waited.

Nofret screamed.

Blackness crept up before Ahmose’s eyes, obscuring Mutnofret’s feet, legs, the obscene swell of her belly, and finally her face, mouth stretched open in a wail of pain that Ahmose no longer heard. The world had gone silent.

***

“
Ahmose. Great Lady.” The voice was a whisper. A hand shook her shoulder. She sat up in her own bed, and cried out in pain. A white fire leapt into her head, just above her left ear. The room was awash in late afternoon light. It hurt her eyes. Ineni perched on a stool beside her.

“
What happened?”

“
They tell me you fainted. You hit your head on a chair. No one could leave Mutnofret, so somebody called for me.”

“
You carried me back?”

He flushed. “With the help of a guard.”

“
Where is Twosre?”

“
Gone to help with the birthing.”

“
My sister?”

“
Last I heard, she is doing well. The midwives are not afraid for her.”

It was good news, but she felt only dread. The look on Mutnofret’s face. Her scream. She had implored Anupu to take her life away. “I can never do it, Ineni.”

His look darted from her eyes to her lips to her hands, as if he might find some words to say there. He reached out to pat the back of her hand, awkwardly. The gesture was so sweet, so informal, that she lost all countenance and threw her arms around his neck with a childish impulsivity. Tears stung her eyes. Ineni’s arms were around her in an instant. He rocked her very gently. Finally he pulled back, a stony look on his face. He would not meet her eye.

“
I saw Aiya die, and now Mutnofret in that state, calling out for death. I cannot bear a child.”

“
But it will cost you the throne. Sooner or later, it will. If Mutnofret has a son – when she has a son – it will cost you everything.”

“
No, it won’t. You have the letters? And the feathers?”

“
It’s a hard thing. Few hunters are taking the right kinds of birds. It will take longer than I had hoped, unless…”

“
Only egrets and sea-birds. No ibis. No vultures. Those are sacred.”

“
Sea-birds don’t come so far south. Not often.”

“
Can you send to the North for feathers?”

“
Ah, I can try.”

She nodded. It would take time to make the right preparations, but it would work. It had to work. She and Ineni had devised the cleverest plan under the sun. It would not fail. She thought of Nefertari, of Meritamun dying, and shoved away creeping guilt. She had no time for guilt. No time, if she was to save her place in this world. Her place at Tut’s side.
People do horrible things, when they are at war
.

“
Keep working at it,” she said. “I know now I can’t bear a child. Whatever Tut’s dream meant – whatever my dream meant – I can’t bear a child. This is my only way to hold on.”

SEVENTEEN

When Twosre brought the news that a prince was born, Ahmose sent her away. Not in anger, but so she could have privacy to reflect on what she would say, what she would do. As she sat quietly in her garden, stretching her legs along a bench beneath a canopy of winter-dried vines, nursing her aching head with wine and honey, Twosre arrived with more news. Baketamun’s child had come early that morning, just hours after the prince. A girl.

She remained in her garden for some time, alone, preparing to meet her nephew. She took great care with her appearance, just as Mutnofret had taught her, applying her paints with a careful hand, choosing the most select of her gowns, the most impressive of her jewels. When she looked the part of the Great Royal Wife, she departed for Mutnofret’s apartments.

Mutnofret welcomed Ahmose into her bed chamber. The second queen walked stiffly and sat on her bed with great care, wincing, but the smile hardly left her face. Ahmose was dimly glad for her sister’s happiness. But inwardly, she frowned at the wrinkled red baby lying on the bed. Mutnofret scooped him up and pulled a heavy breast free of her loose white gown. The boy sucked and smacked loudly. Mutnofret grinned.

“
What are we to call the new prince?” Ahmose asked, watching the greedy little thing wave his weak hands.

“
Wadjmose. His name is Wadjmose.”

“
He looks healthy and strong.”

Mutnofret looked up, a reply on her lips. Then her smile widened. She was looking past Ahmose’s shoulder. She laughed; not her usual throaty, low laugh, but a girlish giggle. Ahmose didn’t need to look around to know that the Pharaoh had arrived to greet his son.

“
Well!” Tut brushed by Ahmose to sit at Mutnofret’s side. His weight pulled the bed down so Mutnofret’s body slanted against his. She leaned her head on his shoulder for a brief moment, and he reached around her to pull her in tighter. Ahmose chewed her lip. “He’s a fine boy,” Tut said, his voice rounded and warmed by pride.

“
Wadjmose,” Mutnofret said.

“
A perfect name.” Tut reached to touch the boy. Without releasing the nipple, Wadjmose clutched a wrinkled fist around Tut’s finger. “Strong grip! The gods are good; he has his father’s hands. Let’s hope he doesn’t grow up to have his father’s teeth!”

Ahmose stepped closer, determined not to be overlooked. “Have you chosen a wet nurse yet, Mutnofret?”

“
I had a few in mind, but I don’t have to make a decision for a few days. Oh, it would be divine to nurse him forever!”

“
You’ll ruin your breasts,” Ahmose said sensibly. “What about Baketamun? She gave birth to your daughter early this morning, Thutmose.”

“
Did she? I’m doubly blessed! Has a man ever had a finer day?”

“
I can’t take Baketamun out of the House of Women to nurse my child. She won’t want her breasts ruined, either. She’s the daughter of a great man, after all. No, it will have to be a servant. I suppose if none of the women in the palace can do it, I can find a nurse from among the rekhet.”

Ahmose was annoyed. If she could get Baketamun’s daughter into the court, perhaps Wadjmose would lose his novelty, and some of his inevitable power over the nobles. And over Thutmose.

“
You won’t want to take the time away from caring for him, though, to find a nurse. You only have a few days to nurse him, after all,” Tut said. “Ahmoset, why don’t you find the prince’s nurse? I know you’ll choose a good one.”

The last thing Ahmose wanted to do was interview big-breasted rekhet to nurse her treacherous nephew, but she was so pleased to hear her name on Tut’s lips that she nodded like a fool. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

“
Oh, will you, Ahmoset?” Mutnofret beamed at her. “It would be such a help.”

“
Of…of course, Nofret. I’ll do it today.” The sooner she had it done, the sooner she could return to life as it was before the child arrived.

“
There’s a good aunt,” Tut laughed. “And this evening, Ahmoset, I’ll take you on a ride. All the way out to the desert! I want to look on the whole land. I could shout from the palace roof, I’m so thrilled. Was ever a man as blessed as me?”

***

“
You found a good nurse for Wadjmose?” Tut reined the horses to a walk.

Far to the west, across river and valley, the horizon was blurred with dust. A wind storm out in the dunes. The sunset would be especially beautiful tonight. Ahmose was glad to be here with her husband, gliding in their chariot along the crest of the hills above the valley. The waters of Akhet had receded, leaving behind deep black silt. From their vantage in the sky, it seemed all of Egypt lay dark and fresh below them, unrolled along the banks of the river like a dropped scroll. Planting would begin soon, the farmers treading the fields with bare feet, spearing holes into the earth, dropping seeds, praying for an abundant growing season. Same as it had been forever, all the way back to the beginning of the world. It was a time for nurturing, for making things grow. Children, yes; and plans, too.

“
A palace woman. She’s raised two healthy boys on her milk. I think Mutnofret will like her, and she will do a fine job looking after the prince.”

“
I’m glad to hear it. It was kind of you to take on the duty. We’ll welcome her as part of our family.”

“
You’re pleased with Wadjmose. I can tell.”

“
What father wouldn’t be?”

“
Have you been to see Opet?”

“
Baketamun’s little girl? Ah, yes. She’s a fine one, too. Such thick hair! She’ll make a fine wife for a nobleman some day.”

“
Baketamun hopes she’ll stay in the House of Women, to carry on for Wadjmose when he’s Pharaoh.”

Tut drove on in silence for some time. At length he said gently, “Wadjmose won’t be Pharaoh, Ahmoset. You know that.”

“
Why shouldn’t he be? You said yourself he’s a fine boy.”

“
You know why.”

“
Because of the dream, yes. I know how you feel. But I’ve told you so many times, Tut: when I prayed for clarity to read the dream, it was all confusion. I can’t say what the gods intend. Not from hearing your dream, anyway.”

“
I know what they intend, dear one. I don’t need your powers to show me the dream’s meaning. Though I hoped you’d be convinced yourself, after you’d heard it.”

All those months since Ahmose had seen the river of stars, the vision of Mut and the shining child, had brought her no clarity. Nothing about Tut’s dream or her own had convinced her to risk bearing a child; and Mutnofret in labor had only firmed Ahmose’s fears. Surely, despite what the midwives said, Mutnofret had been near death. Why else would she have cried out for Anupu to take her? It was a grave thing, to call on the jackal-headed one. A thing not done lightly. Mutnofret must have been at death’s very door. No – childbearing was too dangerous. It was not worth the risk. Not while there was another way to hold onto the throne, and to Tut.

The edge of the sun dipped into the band of dust streaking the western sky. The desert caught fire, distant hills and cliffs flaring hot, all the crevasses and contours of the earth’s bones leaping forward in sharp purple contrast. “Lovely,” she said, pointing, changing the subject.

Tut stopped the horses. They stood together on the chariot’s platform, admired the sun, listened to the horses blow and snort, the struck-bronze chipping of birds in the scrub. Ahmose had to shield her eyes with her hands, peeking through her fingers at the blazing sky. Her eyes watered from the brilliance of Ra’s light. She blinked the wetness away.

“
The gods bless us, that’s sure,” Tut said. She ducked under his arm, pressed close to his body. A fine thing, to be here alone with him on an evening like this. It was almost like their first ride, when they’d been strangers, swept up by the desperate night. With Wadjmose here, her time with Tut would be more rare and precious than ever before.

“
I’ve been thinking, Tut. Perhaps it’s time Nefertari passed on the title of God’s Wife.”

“
To you, I suppose?”

“
Why not? I’m god-chosen, and you know I’m good with political matters.”

Tut nodded, looking down at her with one raised eyebrow. “You are at that. But why do you need power over the Priests of Amun, Ahmoset? They support my rule.”

They might not support
me,
though, if I don’t have a son
.
Not with Wadjmose under their noses
. “Oh, I don’t know.” She waved a hand as if she had no cares in the world. “It’s just another means of ensuring their loyalty. And only a woman can be a God’s Wife, of course.”

“
Of course.” Tut’s fingers rubbed absently at his chin. “I don’t know. It seems a lot of responsibility and work. Do you really want all that heaped on you?”